Once Upon A Cataclysm
by Iridescent Reflection
Summary: Arthur finds himself trapped in a fallen utopia below the Atlantic Ocean. A war rages on and Arthur is defenseless in a society of beings who can shoot power from lightning to fire from their hands. He meets the leader of the Resistance, only getting sucked deeper into the dying society. He will make it back to the surface or die trying. Mulitpairs -loosely Bioshock verse
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello! This is my first Hetalia fanfiction! For those who don't know me, expect slowish updates! For those who do, welcome back and thanks for reading!

I really hope that I can get most of the characters in-character! I've never written most of them before! I apologise if some of them do seem OOC though.

So, this is very loosely based on the world of Bioshock, the game owned by 2K Boston. I tried to avoid using any of the original Gene Tonics and Plasmid names. I tried avoiding any original names, basically.

Copyright of Hetalia belongs to our missing Hima. The loosely based universe of Bioshock belongs to 2K Boston, as stated above.

Anyways, to the story!

The year is 1970, and the location is unknown to the general public. For the sake of the story, the location is under the rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Below the ocean is a society away from society; a civilization that is considered far superior to that of the general population. Below the ocean is the dream shared by two men now well into their seventies.

Beneath the depths of the ocean is the dilapidated dream the two men shared way back when the 1940's were just beginning.

The war is on in full underneath the surface of water that is known as the Atlantic Ocean. There is no government involved, and no countries to ally with. There are only the civilians and their beliefs, as well as technology, medicine, and intelligence that surpassed that of the average surface dweller's material. Things that are being discovered and created up top have been exceeded above and beyond below the Atlantic Ocean.

This utopia was called Pangaea, and like many other civilizations filled to the brim with powerful, superior beings, it fell.

What was once the hippest, hottest mall filled with only the highest class of fashion was now a deserted war zone, only useful for scavenging. The market where farmers would gather to sell high quality produce had been ransacked before the war had reached its peak, while the theater that all would gather to when a new production was released had long ago collapsed in on itself. The grand hotel had lost the ten highest floors and had begun to sink in, making it perfect for a group of rebels to move in. The rebels that occupied this hotel had an unspecified number of years before they were forced to evacuate and locate a new hideout.

In the lobby, a group had gathered round a table as the man in charge pointed to a blood stained, tattered map of Pangaea in its heyday, gesturing to the locations and giving out instructions.

"Watch out for Gilbert," Romulus informed them. "I'm expecting old man Adalbert to drop dead any day now, so no doubt Gilbert'll be his heir. Special training and all that. I'm sure he's dosed him up with a few strong Gene Swaps by now."

The leader of their enemy was as old as Romulus, after all. They figured the only thing keeping their old man fighting was his determination to see his creation stay alive. Then again, the only thing keeping their enemy's leader alive was probably the same reason. Between the two creators of Pangaea, the two probably wanted to see who would come out on top.

"We'll attack from three sides, hopefully scattering or backing them into a corner," Romulus continued, drawing lines with his fingers to show the directions they would be taking.

"From the East we need Toris, Heracles and Mathias. West will be Berwald and Yong Soo. Yong Soo will draw them out and keep look out; Berwald will close in on them and take them down. At the front lines will be Antonio and Francis. Alfred and I will follow behind when you've secured the area so we can swoop in and snatch the Revive Chamber." His wrinkled old hands slammed down on the table in finality as his gaze swept across the group's faces.

Another hand slammed down to join his, capturing everyone's attention from Romulus'.

"Actually," the blonde, blue eyed male spoke up confidently. "We'll flank Antonio and Francis rather than stay behind them. If we flank their side, we can take care of whatever the East and West don't cover, while keeping them covered at the same time."

The older man beamed, despite being corrected. He doted heavily on the young man, and most was positive he'd be named Romulus' heir once he passed. That is, if they weren't out to the surface after today's mission.

"Of course, Alfred," he said, "you just might be getting smarter than this old man."

No one objected to the new plan as it didn't directly involve them. The remaining members were either there to keep watch over the base, or were to follow the main assault groups as backup.

An auburn haired young man stood to Romulus' right, glaring at Alfred as he was praised.

"Why am I always part of either the guard group or the scavenger group?" he demanded, placing his own hand on the table next to Alfred's and Romulus'.

As though they'd had this conversation many times, Romulus gave a weary sigh.

"Lovi, it's for your own safety," he explained. "You and Feliciano will be safest in the base."

The oldest grandson gave a menacing snarl, his expression twisting from jealousy. He locked eyes with his grandfather, then to Alfred.

"I can help you! I'm your grandson! I should be at the front lines with you!" he declared, looking around the room for support. No one attempted to make eye contact with him, frustrating him as Alfred became the star of the show once again. When no one made an effort to back him up once more, Lovino stormed off, exiting their planning room.

Clearing his throat to return the attention back to him, Romulus continued to deal out instructions, keeping a handful of them at the perimeter of the base, and the rest to go for back up. With Alfred's suggestions, they worked out their plan for the Raid and prepared for battle.

Weapons were obtained; knives and smaller tools were hidden beneath clothes, and Communicators were equipped. They gathered at the door and reviewed the plans once more.

As they stood outside in the light of the setting artificial sun, Alfred looked to the group, smiling to himself as he realized how much they all meant to him. It wasn't every day they went off to steal directly from the Order. This was for the greater good of them all.

Romulus gave the signal and everyone took off. Alfred never ceased to be amazed as he watched the scattering of their members. He also never ceased to worry as he wondered who would come back safely, or who would not come back at all. If this mission was successful, he would never have to worry about it again.

Once Antonio and Francis had a head start, Romulus nodded, and the two went off. Romulus to the far left, and Alfred to the far right.

The distance between the base and the Order's headquarters was quite far, with a few old shopping malls and living distracts between them. Midway, gunfire was already heard. Alfred and Romulus stopped as they heard the rapid gunfire and the constant beeping from the droids sent out.

The screaming was always the worst. Or maybe it was the smell of burning flesh. Alfred shuddered as the smell of charred skin drifted in as he and Romulus got closer. He could see Romulus on his left, dodging between the ruins of old houses, shooting at a flying droid, bringing it down in a flurry of smoke and sparks.

As he brought his attention back to the front, he reacted instantly as a few men in uniform charged at him from around a corner, guns ablaze. Thinking quickly, he grabbed for what he assumed was a chunk of building and held it between him and the bullets, taking a wild guess at their locations and charging forward, stopping when he rammed into a standing wall of a building. He had crushed two men between the rock and the wall. He was glad he hadn't heard them scream.

The remaining few had been smart enough to get out of the way and stood to the side, reloading their guns before continuing fire.

Sucking up any doubt or hesitation, Alfred raised both of his hands, palms outward and facing the men. He winced as he felt bullets graze and nick his skin, feeling a few sparks sizzle out where the bullets crossed.

Lightning danced at his fingertips, bright, shimmering blue sparks flickering and fizzling in and out of existence. One short burst from both of his palms and the men standing at his side were crying out, seizing as the lightning struck them and stopped their hearts.

The smell of burning flesh reached his nose but he ignored it and carried on, trying to keep pace with Romulus. Once in a while he could hear Romulus firing the machine gun, followed by the explosion of a machine, or the cries of men.

He passed corpses and debris of buildings or machines, avoiding the human corpses and kicking chunks of metal out of the way. He treaded cautiously, listening past the gunfire for approaching Order members. He ran into very few strays and took care of figures off in the distance that threatened to overwhelm his companions. He worried little for the enemies in front as Antonio and Francis were very good at what they did, especially working together.

By the time the Order's headquarters came into sight, Antonio and Francis were running around up front, avoiding bullets and bursts of fire, ice, or water. Together, the duet used each other's abilities to boost their own; Antonio dancing in a whirlwind of flames, and Francis, dashing with the current of wind, occasionally crossing paths to create a fire wall. Alfred was pretty sure he'd never not be impressed with the effortless grace the two could perform together.

Romulus aided them where he could, firing shots into the flurry of enemies while avoiding hitting his own comrades. Alfred added his electricity to the mix, shooting down flying machines or stunning opponents. He began to grow cocky as wave after wave of man and machine were felled to their strength, and gradually trickled down in size and number. He could feel the others growing in confidence as everything went according to plan, and as the masses of the Order dwindled down to the point of retreat, Alfred and the rest of the Resistance took a step forward.

"Let's move in!" Romulus commanded, gesturing for their troops to continue forward.

Antonio and Francis took the lead, panting lightly while patting their bodies down to check for injuries. Using Energy tended to make one a bit numb and unaware of how badly their condition could be until the adrenaline rush had died down. Behind them followed Romulus and Alfred, and together they walked right through the Order's front door.

"We're in. Group E and W, how are you doing?" Romulus asked into the Communicator, keeping his voice low and his guard up.

Soon enough, the radio crackled in. The groups that had invaded from the east and west of the building were just finishing up and making their way in.

"Excellent, keep up the good work. At this rate we'll be done in a half hour or so," the old man said, grinning. He tucked the radio away, reloading while he had the chance. He didn't know when a new wave could approach them, especially as they walked down the narrow corridor. Antonio had to hold his large ax a certain way to allow another to fit beside him.

As they walked down the silent hall, the group came to a stop as each individual gradually became aware of a repetitive tapping sound.

"Do you hear that?" the dark haired Spaniard asked, turning around, scanning the hall carefully.

"Oui, but of course," Francis replied, brow furrowing in concentration. He brought a hand up to stroke his stubble covered chin. "From behind us, though. A surprise attack?"

Alfred shook his head, turning his best ear in the direction that the Frenchman was sure the steps approached from.

"One person," he informed them, wondering what sort of idiot would attempt to charge in after them. "It can't be one of ours, no one radioed in."

After a moment more of pondering, the quick steps grew louder, signaling the distance shortening between them.

"We should probably get ready for an attack," Romulus suggested thoughtfully, pulling his gun up from its resting position. The Spaniard set his weapon down, flames flickered on his finger tips while electric sparks fizzed in and out on Alfred's. A light breeze came from Francis' balled fists.

The one approaching would just need to turn the corner to receive a face full of power, so they waited, holding their breath as the steps slowed and a light gasping was heard.

The pace had slowed to a walk, giving them a longer wait for the figure to turn the corner.

"Hello?" a familiar voice called out timidly, a head of auburn hair peeked around the corner.

The shock of Lovino's appearance kept the group quiet until they realized the danger the Italian grandson had just placed himself in.

"Lovino!" Romulus hissed, putting his gun down. The rest of the group let their guard down, dispelling the sparks, wind and flames. "You! You aren't supposed to be here!" The older man seemed to be at a loss for words, unsure how to reprimand his young grandson while on a mission.

The nervous boy instantly morphed into one of annoyance and jealousy.

"I did this all by myself, Nonno!" he nearly shouted, causing the rest to wince. Undoubtedly the Order knew they were in their base by now, but they didn't know where. Raised voices were sure to draw attention instantly. "Why won't you let me prove myself? You let these jackasses take all the credit with yourself. I want to help, too!"

Antonio stepped past Francis and Alfred, glaring sternly at Lovino.

"Lovi, you really shouldn't be here. Your grandfather does it for your own good."

"No, you shut up, farmer bastard," he spat venomously. "You always get the spotlight right next to obnoxious bastard."

"It isn't about a spotlight. We're doing this for the greater good."

"I don't want to be treated like a kid! Stop underestimating me!"

"You guys are rising in volume," the Frenchman hissed at them, "time to quiet down so we don't get caught!" He stepped up behind Antonio and clasped his hand over his mouth before the other had a chance to retort.

Romulus sighed as he looked between his grandson and one of his best men.

"Take him ho-" he began, only to be cut off as bullets filled the corridor. The group cried out as the bullets caught them off guard, a few dipping into their skin.

Francis lifted his hands off of Antonio's mouth, spinning around and whipping up a gust of powerful air to deflect the second round of bullets.

Antonio spun around, fists already bathing in fire as he sent out a line of wicked flame. The devilish flame licked up the walls and down the corridor, melting the machines and quickly setting the humans to a screaming, rolling mess. As he turned about face he snatched his weapon that he had leaned against the wall.

The group quickly retreated from the hall, heading back the way they came. If there were more on their way then a single hall bathing in fire wasn't going to stop them from getting around. They would need more space.

"Antonio, not smart," Francis scolded, running alongside his friend.

"Lo siento," he apologized, laughing a bit as he pushed Lovino faster. "Next time I'll think a bit smarter when I'm being shot at."

"Are you kidding?" Alfred butt-in, looking ahead to the Spaniard. "You, thinking? Quickly?"

"Idiots! Why are we chatting like we're running away from a high school prank?" Romulus shouted at them, though all in good humor. For an older man his physical activities were above and beyond even some of their younger members.

The entrance came into view quickly, but as they peered out the door it became very evident that they were surrounded. They had few other choices but to slow to a stop with their backs to the hallways. Romulus fumbled around for his Communicator, dumbstruck as he observed the scene before him.

"Guys?" he radioed in. "Where are you?" He released the button, waiting for a response.

"This is Mathias from East Team," came the first response. "We're out of the building, hit a dead end and had to back it up. West Team is here, too. We see the gathered lot out front. Where are you?"

"Yong Soo from West group," the second response answered. "Had to retreat. Too many people where we came in. Grouped up with East group right away. Now what?"

"We need the both of you to help out with the group in front, you hear?" Romulus growled into the Communicator. He was nervous, otherwise he wouldn't sound so demanding.

"Already planning on it," Mathias answered.

"Berwald just ran for them," Yong Soo replied.

The group wasn't sure what they were expecting once the two groups had alerted them that they had already made to clear up the group obstructing their way out. All they saw was a geyser of water shoot up, lifting a few men high into the air before bringing them back down. From where they stood in the doorway, a geyser was shot from the side, knocking down a row of men and bots.

Only after did they see the column of enemies topple did Mathias and Heracles appear, one swinging a large ax wildly into the crowd, cheering loudly like some sort of Viking. His partner was a tad quieter, shooting off streaks of lightning to accompany the geysers flowing up from the ground.

Berwald came into view next, placing trap after trap on the ground, scattering the troops. Behind him Yong Soo shot round after round from a small pistol, taking down men slower than the Gene Swappers did.

While the newcomers had drawn away the attention from the mass of enemies awaiting their exit, it had also drawn their attention away from any possibility of people behind them.

"Hey, guys," a smooth voice announced from behind them.

Romulus turned around quickest, lifting his gun to sit eyelevel with the albino man that had approached them alone. The rest of the group quickly diverted their attention from the commotion going on outside the building, ready to attack the second the heir of the Order's command so much as sneezed.

"We meet face to face once more, Gilbert," the man greeted, tipping the gun's nozzle as though one would tip a hat. "It's been a while. Ten years, I think?"

Smirking, the red eyed man shrugged nonchalantly, waving his gun around carelessly.

"Maybe. I don't really care. I'm not here for what you think," he began, dropping the gun to the floor, causing a flinch to pass through the five of them. He kicked it towards them, placing his hands in the air in the universal gesture of surrender.

Despite this, Romulus, nor the others, dropped their guard. They looked from the discarded gun to the man surrendering.

"What are you playing at?" Romulus seethed, narrowing his eyes. His gun lowered ever so slightly, not leaving the target, but not obscuring their eye contact.

"Nothing, nothing." An obnoxious snicker escaped the other's lips, certainly not helping the suspicion devouring him. "I quit, see? I don't want to play this side anymore. It sucks."

His words confused the lot of them, and very obviously he was severely doubted. No one moved, save for Gilbert putting his arms down to rest. Giving up was hard work on the arms.

"This isn't a game, you kn-" Alfred started.

"I suppose we could use him as a prisoner of war, whether or not he's being honest," Francis suggested quickly. "You're the heir after Adalbert dies, right?" He waited for the casual shrug of confirmation from the young man before them. "Then why would you give yourself up?"

"I just said, I quit, and this side is sucking really hard. It's not awesome, y'know?" he responded, as though the answer ought to be obvious. "My brother can have the position. He'd be better at it, except I don't think you want that, really. Either way, old man Adalbert will kick the bucket sooner or later, and I'd rather not be around when he does. Seriously, the job would be annoying, and I'm too awesome to be stuck doing desk work and strategy planning."

They looked at him as though he were crazy, which he probably was. They remained skeptical as to any seriousness the albino could possess for the situation, and whether or not he was intending to infiltrate their base by 'quitting.'

"Um, okay, Antonio, Francis, you can take care of him. I don't trust him," Romulus instructed, backing up from Gilbert. "Wait, no. Will you help us fight?"

Gilbert brightened up and pumped a fist in the air.

"You'll win because I'm here!" he cheered, running at the group. He startled them slightly by the sudden movement, but as he ran past them and out into the fray, electricity shot from his hands and targeted the Order members.

"Do you think he's serious?" Alfred asked no one in particular. Watching the now former-heir of the Order fight for their side was bizarre. No doubt he would have been a rough opponent against them though.

"Bossman?" the radio crackled in, amplifying the battle sounds through the Communicator. "Gil's here. What do we do?" Though it was Mathias speaking through the Communicator, they couldn't see him. At least not from where they stood.

Hesitating, unsure what sort of order he should be giving about Gilbert Beilschmidt, Romulus finally responded with, "Watch your back, but he seems to be on our side. Don't attack him unless he attacks any of ours."

Turning to his grandson, he gazed at him sternly, still not happy about how he had followed them in.

"Lovino, stay close to me, you understand? Boys, back me up. Keep Lovino safe," he demanded, waiting for his young grandson to nod meekly. With that, Romulus charged into battle, firing at whoever had turned attention to them. Behind him Alfred, Francis, and Antonio attempted to keep the attention off of Romulus and Lovino.

As far as Alfred was aware, they were fighting to make a clean get away, so taking out everyone as soon as possible was a must. Admittedly, with Gilbert on their side some of the opponents were shocked into distraction, leaving them open, easy targets, all of which Gilbert took down mercilessly. He fought ferociously, as though eager to prove his loyalty. If his story was the real deal, that is to say. Alfred didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

Alfred kept close to Romulus as instructed, while Antonio and Francis worked better taking care of enemies from a distance. Antonio's method of attack when he wasn't using his halberd was dangerous to be around for friend and foe alike. Not that he did it on purpose, but it was better to be able to stay clear of him at all costs. Francis wasn't nearly as dangerous to be near when he was fighting, but he had learned to adapt to the way Antonio fought, since they often worked together to work off of each other in battle.

Somehow the albino had made his way into the duet's style, inserting himself and creating a trio. The two were thrown off for the briefest moment as he joined in with them, but soon grew accustomed to the seemingly tactless style of fighting the lightning-user possessed; occasionally even getting a use out of the streak of lightning he would send out from his hands.

"Romulus!" he called, looking for the older man and his grandson. He spotted the two fighting their way through the crowd, Romulus shooting with a desperate sort of aim to get Lovino out as quickly and safely as possible.

Lovino was not a traumatized child who had glorified battle in vain, but an inexperienced fighter was an inexperienced fighter. Perhaps Romulus was to blame. Maybe he should have allowed him to practice more than just on still targets back at the base. The Italian could fire the gun with no problems. Working a gun was not a difficult task for him.

Firing at a real human being was, though.

Machines were taken out with little hesitation, but when a man approached him, whether he threatened him with a gun full of bullets, or a fist full of fire, Lovino hesitated, calling out for Nonno to help. Every time he gave a small wail of surprise, Romulus would look back at him, first looking to the enemy, taking him out quickly, and then looking to the wide eyed expression of his young grandson.

In one instance, Romulus turned too late, attempting to reload with the few remaining bullets he had left. Lovino found himself turning too slowly as well.

While Lovino had been shooting down a flying turret bot, a quick thinking Order member darted through the crowd, keen eyes having spotted the older man struggling to replace the bullets, and young hindrance at his side.

From the corner of his eye Lovino spotted the young blonde male speeding swiftly towards them, barely having time to cry out as the man lashed out with a small knife, swiping it across Lovino's face.

"Nonno!" he managed to cry out as the knife made contact with his face.

Romulus turned to see his grandson pull away, hands covering his face as blood crept past his palms. He nearly dropped his gun in shock at the sight of his grandson injured. The attacker didn't waste time in gloating, striking the older man with the knife, plunging it into his torso.

Alfred cried out in surprise, drawing the attention of a few around him.

Stumbling back, Romulus clutched his chest, his hands circling the hilt of the knife. He looked down at the red seeping through, then to Lovino's. He dropped the gun as his hands trembled and he remembered to breathe.

"Romulus!" the blonde lightning user called, running to the wounded leader. The blonde assassin had run when Alfred had given a noise of surprise, alerting his awareness. "Come on, let's get you out of here!" He made to grab for the old man to support his shaking frame, only to have his hands slapped away. Romulus' hands had left a red wet splotch on his wrist.

"Get Lovino first," he said weakly, nudging the crying boy towards Alfred.

Trapped in a moment of indecision, Alfred did nothing but gasp for breath for a few seconds before snatching the Communicator from where it was attached to Romulus' clothes. His shaking fingers had trouble pressing the button required to make it work, but as he used one hand to defend them, the other contacted the others in their group.

"G-guys!" he called hoarsely into the two-way radio. "Romulus and Lovino down. Help!"

He almost forgot to let the speaking button go to allow others a chance to communicate back.

Of course he wasn't expecting the others to stop in the middle of battle just to phone him back. He was surprised he had been able to focus on two tasks at once, let alone hold off anyone coming towards them while their guard was down.

He scanned the battle ground quickly, searching for any of his approaching comrades. He needed help getting Romulus and Lovino out. He couldn't help them and protect them at the same time. Two more people, that's all he asked for.

The first person to approach was Yong Soo. The young male had doppelgangers running with him, a use of his Decoy Gene. It would help in distraction only, but not directly defense. At the sight of Romulus and Lovino, Yong Soo's expression morphed from nervous confusion to absolute horror. His doubles disappeared as he lost focus.

"Yong Soo!" Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally! Is anyone else making their way over?"

The young Asian nodded, still taking in the sight of Lovino clutching his bloody face and Romulus panting and wheezing in pain. Somehow the old man was still able to pull the trigger and ward off a few enemies. Alfred couldn't admire him anymore than he already did, he was sure.

"Heracles is coming too. I wasn't much help so I got here fastest." It seemed embarrassing for him to admit that he wasn't able to help much, but when one had surveillance Gene Swaps only, they tended to be a little less helpful at confrontation. "He was looking for Sadiq, I think, but it seems none of their big guys are out. Oh, actually, I stand corrected. Is that Gilbert?"

Alfred waved it away, trying to get the young Asian male back on track.

"Says he's on our side. Don't know if I believe him yet. Or if I'll believe him ever." Yong Soo nodded in agreement, watching the albino struggle to fight off men surrounding him.

"There's Heracles," he announced, pointing to a brown haired man charging past enemies. He allowed fire, ice, and electricity to hit him, hardly flinching when a fireball hit his back, or ice tried to numb him in place. His body absorbed it almost instantly, leaving only damage to his clothing.

Soon enough the generally lackadaisical man stood next to them, eyes searching Romulus and Lovino.

"Why haven't you guys done anything already? Move!" he reprimanded, carefully but quickly wrapping Romulus' arm around his shoulders and supporting his weight. Yong Soo guided Lovino after them, pushing him forward. As the two walked, the Grecian made sure any attacks hit him. He fired back when he was given the chance but otherwise left it to Alfred to back him up.

Untangling themselves from the mob of people and machines locked in battle was tougher than getting in to the headquarters. By the time they picked their way out, Lovino was mumbling half sobbed apologies and Romulus was weakly comforting him.

"Heracles, we need to get him away from here. Maybe call for someone with a Medic Gene," Alfred said, watching over his shoulder. "Who was that person? He disappeared so quickly."

"Who?" Yong Soo asked, having heard Alfred mutter to himself.

"The one who did this," the blonde replied, gesturing to the two injured Italians. "Ran up with a knife. The one in Romulus' chest. He ran off." Alfred didn't have the time to think about it as Romulus' body shuddered and gave a strained cough. As his head ducked down and his body trembled, Alfred glimpsed flecks of blood trickle out.

"Hey, hey! Come on, old man," he said shakily, wondering if they were even going to make it far enough away to where they could call for help. "Stay with us, you're going to be okay! You've had worse, right?"

Romulus looked back at Alfred, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. His gaze flickered over to Lovino. The eldest grandson looked back with one eye, the other hidden by a hand covered in blood. He started to mouth another apology when Romulus stopped him again, flashing a ghost of his normal smile.

"I've had worse, this is true. In my younger days I could take this knife right out and kill the man who had tried to assassinate me. I've even done it once before." He took a moment to breathe as deeply as he could. "But that was in my younger days. When I was about your age, Alfred. Strong people fell to their knees before me when I was young and strong. Now I'm an old man, and this will probably be my last mission."

The group was stunned into silence. Honestly, Alfred was sure that like he, the rest of the group was certain that Romulus would be finished. They were hopeful that he being the man he was, he would pull through this regardless of the wound, regardless of the blood loss. They would call for Elizaveta in time. She would heal him to the best of her abilities and they would lie low as they waited for their beloved leader to recover.

That was what they all wanted to happen, but they had been too skeptical of that kind of outcome.

Alfred often had to remind himself that this wasn't a game, or a dream.

"How ironic," Romulus said, directing where he wanted Heracles to place him. They ducked behind a building, placing Romulus against the wall. Slowly the old man slid down, wincing as the knife was jostled. "The thing that we set out to prevent this is what kills me."

Lovino and Alfred sat next to Romulus, Heracles and Yong Soo stood guard.

"It's my fault, isn't it, Nonno?" Lovino asked quietly, whimpering as he clutched the left side of his face with both hands. "You keep telling me it's not, but it is. It's because I came along and distracted you, right? I was dragging you down."

Romulus' head rested against the wall of the crumbling building, his breathing shallow as he held to the knife wound. He had one hand wrapped loosely around the hilt of the blade, as if pondering whether to pull it out and make things speed up, or to let it proceed slowly and painfully to buy more time. To Lovino's question he simply shook his head.

"No, no. Not your fault," he replied breathlessly. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his nostrils flared quickly. His brows furrowed in the effort it took to breathe as painlessly as possible. "I suppose you were right. I should have let you fight sooner. Or at least not have kept you to guard duty all of the time." He shook his head again. "Don't make that mistake with Feliciano. He needs to know how to defend himself too, you know."

The younger Italian gave a choked sob as he realized his grandfather was passing his last wishes to him.

"I'll take care of him, Nonno. I'll take care of him," he promised, tears flowing freely. Alfred felt as though this moment should have been reserved for the two of them. He even wished Feliciano were here to say good bye.

"I'm just glad it wasn't you. You and your brother are my everything, you know?" He took a breath, pausing as he struggled for words. "Alfred," he called, looking to the blonde sitting at his side, face turned away from the scene.

His head swiveled to look over at the dying man. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the light gradually fading from the older male's eyes.

"You'll make a fine leader for the Resistance, trust me."

At this, Heracles and Yong Soo spun around, looking between Romulus and Alfred. They didn't look surprised. Not at the outcome of the situation. Everyone in the base knew Alfred was almost doted on as much as Feliciano by their leader. Everyone expected the position to be passed down to Alfred.

"B-but, I wouldn't! I'm too rash, too inexperienced!" he stuttered nervously, too anxious to know what to say. "I wouldn't be a good leader. Not like you!"

Romulus just smiled and gave an airy laugh.

"We all start somewhere. What do you think I started as? The great man I am today? Certainly not. You'll do fine."

"I'm honored, sir," Alfred said, dipping his head out of respect.

"You can start by calling off the others. We wouldn't want them failing on a mission that's no longer in play, right?" Romulus' eyes grew more unfocused as they drifted to the radio clutched in Alfred's hands. He had completely forgotten he had been holding it to wait for a response. The others were still fighting for their lives.

"What do you think of Gilbert?" Alfred asked quickly, unsure what to believe without the words from his leader. They could use any ally possible, but the chances of Gilbert honestly quitting the Order to join them sounded so unbelievable.

The old man didn't respond at first. Alfred watched his breaths slow down. It was like he was falling asleep. Just as he thought Romulus was too far gone to hear him or respond, the leader spoke his last words of wisdom to Alfred.

"I've known him since he and his brother were just boys. Gilbert is sincere. He's always been a rebellious spirit compared to his brother and grandfather. In any case, keep an eye on him, but don't let mistrust hinder honest judgment. A time will come where you and he will trust each other with your lives.

"Finally, Lovino. I'll be watching over you and your brother, guarantee it. Don't do anything naughty, all right?"

Lovino nodded as best as he could with two hands clasped over his face. He let one go to place it on Romulus' own hand. Alfred placed a hand on Romulus' other hand, finding them losing warmth quickly. He avoided placing pressure or moving to prevent causing Romulus more pain in his last moments.

Together the four of them watched the passing of their beloved founder.

Lovino broke the silence with a strangled sob, wrenching one of Romulus' lifeless hands away from the knife that had been plunged into his heart, pulling it close to his face. He kissed the hand several times, sniffling and keening pathetically.

Alfred couldn't bring himself to cry. He could barely bring tears to his eyes. He wondered what was wrong with him. The man that had raised him after the civil war had broken out had just died and he couldn't even force a drop of water from his eyes.

Off to the side Heracles and Yong Soo had lowered their heads. The young Korean shed a few tears, his mouth fighting the twitch of a frown. Even Yong Soo was crying more than Alfred was.

"Romulus? Alfred? Where did you guys go?" Antonio's voice sounded through the Communicator in Alfred's hands. "We got away and we have Gilbert with us. Mathias and Berwald are holding them back. Can't find Toris though. Is Romulus all right?"

Alfred hesitated, first looking for the voice to speak.

"Antonio." His voice cracked. He paused and cleared his throat. "Antonio," he tried again. "Romulus . . . Romulus is dead, where are you? We're pulling out."

There was silence from the radio. Alfred was sure Berwald had just heard the news too. Maybe Mathias if he was close enough.

"How about we meet back at base instead? I can warn Feliciano ahead of time," the Spaniard suggested.

Alfred nearly agreed just so they could get going, but then he remembered Lovino was still bleeding.

"Wait, no. Meet at the place where the fountain used to be. We need you to pick up Lovino."

Assuming the silence from the other end afterwards meant that Antonio had nothing more to say, Alfred stood up and looked down at Lovino, still clinging tightly to Romulus' limp hand.

"Lovino, we need to move," he told the other, placing a hand on the Italian's shoulder. "We need to get you to Antonio before any Order members head over to pick them off while they wait for us. Antonio will take you back to the base faster than we can."

The auburn haired male remained stock still, making Alfred wonder if they would need to physically pry him away from his grandfather's body. Instead, the boy kissed his grandfather's hand once more and stood, shoulder's slumped as though carrying a heavy burden.

"It wasn't your fault," Alfred told him, removing his hand from Lovino's shoulder. He wanted to tell him something that would relieve him from the metaphorical burden, but he was sure only time would do that.

"Heracles, I need you to carry Romulus' body. Would you, please?" Alfred requested, getting the group ready to move out. They needed to be quick to avoid keeping Antonio waiting around long. "You guys go meet with Antonio, then, once Lovino's with him, Heracles and Yong Soo need to head for the base. I would travel in small groups though. You would draw too much attention going in all together. Antonio needs time to warn Feliciano anyways.

"I'm going to check on Mathias and Berwald. Maybe we can find Toris," Alfred concluded, stepping past the Asian and Grecian, looking back at them before parting ways. He needed to inform them himself if they hadn't already heard.

"Wait a second." He turned around to see Heracles offering Alfred the bloodied knife that had been lodged in Romulus' torso. Alfred didn't know why he'd need it, but he took it anyway. The blonde gripped the red stained handle tightly, looking at the weapon that had felled their leader. He took a deep breath and wrenched his eyes away from the knife. They had to leave now.

Alfred made his way back to where the large battle had taken place, only to find it reduced to a quarter of its original size. Bodies littered the floor as well as scrap parts. Berwald and Mathias stood in the middle of it, finishing off the rest of them.

They didn't need his help, so he waited for them to finish. He waited until Mathias set down his ax and Berwald to take a hesitant breath before approaching. They saw him coming and looked at him with a solemn expression.

So they already knew. Or they had something else to tell him. They glanced at the knife in Alfred's hands. Alfred paused in advancing to tuck it away, giving it the spot of the knife he had brought with him. He discarded his old knife, kicking it away from him.

"Where's Toris?" Alfred asked as he neared the two.

Berwald and Mathias grudgingly looked at one another before looking back at the Order's headquarters.

"Well see, it wasn't my fault," Mathias started up nervously, fidgeting a bit. "When we were getting inside, Ivan confronted us."

Alfred felt the blood drain from his face. Ivan was one of their most dangerous opponents aside from Adalbert.

"We were heading out, you know? Too much firepower against the three of us, so we totally bailed, right?" Mathias was licking his lips and scratching the back of his head. "Ivan uses ice and all, you know? Well, he was shooting at us. Mostly Toris. We tried to get him out of there quickly, but well. . ." He trailed off slowly, looking back at the base.

"Ivan has Toris?" Alfred asked quietly, his brow raising disbelievingly.

"Yes," the halberd-wielder said. "He froze him solid. There was no way we could save him."

One teammate right after the other. Alfred ran a hand through his hair, sighing through his nose. God, they hadn't had a mission go this badly since 1966.

"You're going to tell Feliks. Not me." He tried to make light of the situation, but facing Feliks was a challenge on its own. Alfred was already sucking as a leader and it wasn't even an hour in.

"Maybe we can make a bargain with him, I don't know," he finally offered, chewing his lower lip. "Maybe we'll trade Gilbert for Toris. Assuming he isn't killed right away." He wondered first if Toris was taken in order for a trade-off to become possible between the two sides, but Alfred realized the former heir to the Order hadn't technically defected until after they had escaped the building.

It all sounded like some kind of plan they were setting up to where trading one for another would be required, just so Gilbert could get inside information. They could only wait and see. A conference call would need to be set up when they got back.

"If we're done here, let's get back."

Alfred led the way for the three of them. They were met with zero resistance, amazingly. None of this should have been this easy. They should be greeted with guns and bolts of electricity for taking the heir. The Order should be trying harder to get him back.

Was Romulus wrong about Gilbert being sincere? This was too suspicious. The timing and everything was all wrong.

"You guys know Gilbert claims to have quit the Order, right?" Alfred asked them on their walk back, breaking the silence.

Mathias perked his head up; shifting the heavy weapon he balanced on his shoulder.

"Saw him, didn't say anything when he started blasting some of his own guys away."

"Yeah, but what do you think? He confronted us as we were leaving, dropped his gun, held his hands up in the air. Told us he was quitting the Order. Sounds too suspicious to me."

Berwald looked at Alfred wearily. While he wasn't a man of many words, he offered words that counted.

"What did the leader say?" the Swedish male asked quietly.

"Said to trust him and not let our suspicion cloud our judgment or something."

"So, do we trust him then?" the Dane asked. "If trading him off for Toris doesn't work, we could just lock him up in a cage for the rest of ever."

"I want to trust Romulus, but the situation and my gut instinct, all of it says this is wrong," Alfred groaned, holding his pounding head. All of this thinking and everything that had happened had given him a splitting headache.

"We need more people on our side. We're outnumbered by a lot. Maybe we can use him for information and then lock him up?" Mathias suggested, looking to the stoic Swede. They may not always be on the best terms all the time, but when the situation called for it, the two relied on each other to get by.

"As long as he fights for us, we don't need to trust him entirely," Berwald replied, removing his cracked glasses to clean the lenses.

"I guess." Somehow that made him feel better. He wanted to trust Gilbert, but that didn't mean he had to. They could all keep an eye on him, make sure he wasn't snooping and swapping info. They could use him for what he was capable of. No one said they had to trust him, although Romulus had suggested it.

The rest of the walk was quiet as they all pondered something different.

For Mathias, he wondered how to break it to Toris' closest friend, Feliks. No doubt chairs would be thrown. Feliks was going to have an absolute melt down when they told him Toris was in Ivan's hands. He was gritting his teeth nervously, trying to piece out the easiest way to break it to him.

Berwald was simply thinking about how things could have gone differently. For him, losing an ally was tough, and he could already imagine the reaction Feliks was going to have. If it had been Tino that had been taken, he didn't know what he'd do. Tino was so fragile already, even if he wouldn't admit it. Berwald made sure Tino stayed at the base every time, even when the young man wanted to help most.

Alfred's mind was racing through everything at light speed. It went from grasping the concept that he was the new leader, as well as Gilbert's alliance with them. He fretted for Toris' wellbeing, wondering how all of this could be solved. Sooner or later they'd have to go back and make a second try. Romulus would want it, he was sure.

They'd recover, lick their wounds, and mourn for their leader. Then they would stand up and try again later. They owed it to their founder to bring back the one thing he had wanted almost as badly as winning the war.

When they arrived back to the hotel, they stopped outside and the door and prepared for the worst. As they walked through the door, they found everyone gathered in the lobby.

The lot of them were gathered around the table that originally held their plans.

The table that they had all gathered around before they had set off for the Revive Chamber.

A few turned their attention away from the corpse of their fallen leader to greet them sadly.

A short blonde male detached himself from the group, rushing to Berwald's side and embracing him. Berwald wrapped an arm around him and the two walked to the table.

A second blonde male ran from the table's side, approaching the two with a near-panicked expression.

"Where did Toris go? You didn't forget him, did you?" the Polish male demanded, worry etched into his face. "You totally left him, didn't you? He better not be dead!"

Mathias looked to Alfred for help but only received a shake of his head.

No, it certainly wasn't the Dane's fault in any way or form that Toris had been captured, but as part of his team, he had to tell the distraught best friend.

"Hey, uh, Feliks? Why don't we step over here?" Mathias suggested, guiding Feliks by the arm to a remote corner.

Alfred was left alone, looking at the group of comrades gathered around Romulus' body. As far as he could tell, only Elizaveta and Lovino were missing. The rest that had been on the mission to recover the Revive Chamber were able to go without treating their wounds right away.

To the side, Gilbert stood awkwardly, watching the scene from afar. He didn't want to get into their personal business, especially with most of them scorning him and cursing him for being there. He wasn't welcome as one who was technically from the side that had ended their leader's reign.

The new leader approached the albino, standing next to him quietly, watching the scene. He knew he should be over there with his friends, crying or saying goodbye, but he chose to stand next to their new member.

"I guess you don't lose people very often," Gilbert commented without removing his eyes from the sight. "Or you value your people like they're family."

While he would rather ignore the outsider, his curiosity got the better of him.

To their left Feliks gave a sob of agony. Alfred couldn't bring himself to look. Apparently Gilbert couldn't, either.

"You don't treat your group like family?"

"Gramps said they were all expendable. At least the normal citizens are. Why do you think we send out so many people at one time? We have tons of people ready to die to exterminate the 'Rats.' Plus, we have the Revive Chamber. It still has a few bugs, but it works."

Alfred didn't know what to think of them treating their allies like expendable tools. He supposed it was typical of them. They probably ran like an office might; everyone did their share of work until they were no longer useful.

"Bugs? What kind?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Never been through it myself. Only Swapped a few days ago, so I never went out to fight before today. As far as our researchers could tell, it's different for everyone but you aren't yourself every time you come back. Some of our people are like zombies at this point. It's not an awesome sight, trust me."

"So even if we had obtained one today, it would still have problems," Alfred muttered, wondering if it was better to have their friends alive and whole, or alive and a shadow of themselves.

"You know, I could do your mechanics for you. I know how it works for the most part. I can try and fix it when you get one." Gilbert finally turned his head to look at him. "If you're still after one, that is."

Alfred was skeptical, but Gilbert offering a hand to them made him want to trust him a little more.

"Of course we're going to try again. We need to avoid situations like this. They don't happen often, but they happen enough."

"So what happens next?" the albino inquired, watching the younger grandson sob into the arms of Antonio.

Alfred recalled the knife he had received from Heracles. He removed it from the hidden sheath and showed the blade to Gilbert.

"Is this knife special, or is it standard issue with the Order?" Alfred asked, letting Gilbert take the bloodied knife from him to examine.

He flipped the weapon around, looking at the bottom of the hilt. His eyes squinted, searching for something in particular.

"No, it's not that popular in the Order. It's my brother's, though. He wasn't supposed to be out on the field," Gilbert stated, handing the knife back casually.

"How do you know it's his?"

"Bottom of the handle, he marked his initials in it. I'm surprised he left it. Gramps gave it to him when he was little. Never gave me one."

"Not helping ,Gil," Alfred said, spotting the initials. So the blonde haired male who had darted through the crowd had been the new heir for the Order, considering Gilbert left. If Alfred had killed him, there wouldn't be an heir, would there?

"Right. I'll keep the awesome comments to myself then."

"We're going to hold a funeral for Romulus," Alfred said, knowing the rest would want it. It would be small and short to avoid attention. Alfred figured burning the body would be easiest.

"Yeah? You do that. Am I invited?" Gilbert asked, looking skeptical. "I did know him before this all started, you know."

Alfred just nodded tiredly. He wasn't going to tell anyone they couldn't come. If Gilbert wanted to go, then it was fine.

In the old shopping districts was where the funeral was performed.

The body had been cleaned the day after, but the man was still dressed in the stained clothes he had died in. Limited resources and all that. Romulus' body was strapped to the door of his bedroom that Mathias and Berwald had worked to rip off the hinges and carried by Antonio and Alfred.

They carried the makeshift coffin to the old shopping district. Against their better judgment everyone followed, leaving the base unguarded for the day. They didn't expect to be long though. It would be quick and easy. Those who wanted to stay after were welcome to it, but the base couldn't be left unattended for too long.

Romulus' body was set down on the cracked pavement in front of an old Italian restaurant that the family had favored. The gathered members of the Resistance family stood around him, heads inclined. Some murmured things they wished they would have said before it happened, while others thanked him.

When all grew silent Antonio stepped forward. With great hesitation he allowed tiny dancing flames to sprout from his fingertips, eventually allowing them to grow larger before laying them down across the corpse of their leader. The smell of burning flesh penetrated the air, but few seemed to mind for the occasion.

Alfred looked to the faces of his comrades as the body burned. He looked to the twins first. Feliciano sobbed pathetically, curled in on himself as close as he could to his grandfather's body. Lovino sat next to him with an arm around his shoulder, half of his face bandaged. The older twin looked devastated as tears leaked quietly from his visible eye. Alfred wondered if the other eye was even in any condition to be able to cry.

Next he looked to Antonio. The Spaniard looked at his hands regretfully. It had to be done, but he wished he hadn't been the one to do it. Francis stood next to him, patting his back and whispering reassurances. On Antonio's other side stood Gilbert, looking serious but not quite sorrowful. Alfred wondered why he bothered coming.

As his gaze traveled from Berwald's face, to Elizaveta's face, to Matthew's, Alfred wondered if he was really capable of leading these people. From now on they would count on him. He would be responsible for every success, every failure, and every death. Until they got that Revive Chamber, death was their biggest weakness.

The funeral officially lasted about half an hour, and after the body had been burned once more to burn whatever might have remained people began walking back to the base. It took another half hour for all but Alfred and Feliciano to clear out. Lovino had left with Antonio only minutes previous. Feliciano didn't appear ready to leave any time soon, so Alfred approached him and kneeled next to his curled form.

"Feli, it's time to go," he told the Italian. It had been about twenty minutes ago that Feliciano's eyes had run dry. Now, as he faced the time to depart Romulus' resting place his eyes watered once more.

"I know. Help me up?" he requested, slowly unfurling his body and holding his arms out.

Alfred grabbed his arms and pulled him up, holding his balance as Feliciano staggered.

"Are you okay?" the blonde asked, knowing that he probably really wasn't.

The brunette just nodded, keeping his gaze low to the ground. He sniffled once and used his arm to wipe his eyes. "I will be. Did Nonno say anything to you before he died?"

"A bit. He told your brother to watch after you. Told us to trust Gilbert." He paused. "He said I would make a good leader."

Feliciano looked up at the last part, a small smile flickering across his lips, just lifting the corners of his mouth in the slightest.

"I think so, too. I know everyone else will," the Italian responded. "Nonno's never wrong about people. You'll be a good leader, and Gilbert will make a nice ally."

"You think so too? About Gilbert, I mean." It was very few of them that trusted Gilbert right now. Many had promised to never trust him when he had announced his 'official, awesome defection' from the Order after things had calmed down the night before.

Giving a small nod without hesitation, Feliciano inhaled shakily.

"He's going to have to work hard to get everyone's trust. He will work hard for it, too. Gilbert's the kind of guy that everyone naturally likes, even though he's obnoxious." Before Alfred could ask how the other knew, Feliciano quickly added, "We used to play when we were kids."

Alfred didn't know what else to say to Feliciano's confession. Maybe that's why Gilbert attended. He had known Romulus personally at one point. Alfred thought about it for a bit. Feliciano had taken a blank look on his face. His eyes saw another time as his memories played a different setting.

"So you're not mad that I've been made the new leader?" Alfred asked after they have lapsed into a comfortable silence. His voice brought Feliciano back to reality.

The older male smiled. "Of course. I don't care that you're younger than Lovino and I. I don't care if you aren't related. To Nonno everyone was family. Lovino might not be happy later though. He was always jealous of the relationship you had with our grandfather, you know."

"Then I suppose we ought to tell the others?" Alfred asked, turning away from the smoking ashes of their leader to face the direction of the base. He began heading back slowly, making sure Feliciano followed.

The youngest grandson trailed him at first before he picked up his pace and walked side by side with Alfred.

"I'm sure they already expected it, but I suppose we need something to celebrate about." Feliciano picked up his smile and forced it to grow wider. "Yeah, you should definitely do it. Make sure you tell them when you walk in."

A/N: The two betas I enlisted for this both have not gotten around to editing/betaing this story. I apologise for any mistakes. I'm thinking this will probably not get any second eye editing because they're both busy and leaving, so it will more than likely be riddled with mistakes. I apologise for the future ones in advance!

Until the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm nearly sorry how long it took to get this up. These are long chapters. Sometimes I wonder if they're too long.

The year is 1975, and the location is the streets of London, England. The war below the waters of the Atlantic Ocean remain unknown to the general public, although there is a different sort of attention that calls to the location hidden under the ocean.

The morning sky is dark, filled with heavy clouds that promise the fall of rain for most of the day.

Second-year university student Arthur Kirkland made his way to the University of London, turning his collar up against the wind and the sprinkling cold rain. His hair was damp, pressed flat to his head unlike the usual scruffy look his hair generally tends to have. His uneven row of bangs was plastered to his forehead, covering his thick eyebrows.

He stopped off at a café on his way to the school, buying a cuppa and taking a seat. The blonde removed his damp messenger bag from his shoulder, setting it on the floor beside him. He wrapped both hands around the porcelain cup, letting it warm his chilled fingers.

Arthur took notice of the newspaper that someone had left behind, grabbing it and unfolding it, avoiding the slightly damp tea stain that had leaked through the first few pages. Arthur scanned the pages quickly, finding few things of interest. He almost tossed it back to where he found it until he caught sight of a small article that often showed up in every newspaper.

"MISSING" in small bolded letters followed by a list of names and their respective locations where they had been last seen. Arthur, like everyone else, often skimmed the names, feeling relief when finding that there was no one he knew today.

For the past few years people from all around the world were going missing. Police found no pattern or trend in those who went missing, as well as little to no evidence of their captor. Arthur hadn't had anyone he personally knew go missing yet, but he couldn't help but feel paranoia for the future.

Finding all that he had interest in, Arthur took the newspaper, reaching down to tuck it into his messenger bag. He was sure some of his classmates might want to have a look at the names, too.

The blonde Briton took his time to drink his tea, watching a few people mill about on the streets through the window. Cars and taxis sped by, as usual. The rain was coming down harder now, but not unbearably so. Besides, his university was just a ten minute walk from the café.

Once Arthur finished his cuppa he took his leave, pulling the strap of the bag over his shoulder and walking quickly, taking to walking under whatever shelter was available on his brief trek to his school. People around him picked up the pace, seeking their destination quicker, or a temporary shelter as the rain continued to worsen. Arthur was not the only one without an umbrella, or the need to be somewhere soon. Living in London, one got used to it or brought an umbrella. Arthur just happened to be one of those people who were used to it.

Despite the quickly decreasing number in people outside, Arthur felt a sharp tingle creep up his spine, making him shudder and turn, looking about.

No one was even looking at him. They were all too busy running away. He couldn't imagine why he felt the sudden chill of being watched. A ghost? A demon?

"Grandmother?" he muttered to himself curiously.

He could have slapped himself for being so ridiculous. He felt this because he had just read the paper, right? It was just his overactive imagination. He really did have quite the imagination according to many others. He could swear magical creatures were right there in front of him, talking or playing with him. Did anyone else see them? No. Of course not. Arthur was crazy, Arthur was over imaginative. Arthur was certainly imagining the chilling feeling that crawled up and down his spinal column.

The Briton shook his head, sending drops of water flying. No more pondering in the rain. Time to go! No more talking to his deceased grandmother.

Arthur stopped thinking about the potential watcher, jogging the rest of the way to the university.

Several minutes later he found himself at the front of the building, leaning against the front door and gasping for breath. Was he really that out of shape?

Deciding it wasn't important and that he needed to get out of the rain, out of sight, and into the building to get ready for class, Arthur entered the building.

The first thing he did was remove his dripping wet jacket. It had done its job well in protecting him from the water. It would probably be completely dry in a few hours. Maybe when he went to his second class.

Within the building, there were a handful of students. If you considered how large the entire student body was, the amount of damp students walking around at this time of day was only a handful. Not many people actually enjoyed taking the early morning classes, even if it meant more free time during the day. It caught up to you eventually. Most preferred a class some time after ten or eleven.

Arthur headed to his first class where only a few of the handful of people would be sitting, ready for very early morning learning. He found himself an isolated seat in the corner.

Admittedly, he was not a popular person within his class. All of them, actually. He didn't mind, really. Friends would drag him down, he figured. Spend too much time with them rather than studying is what most people with friends might do. No thanks, not for Arthur.

He sat back in his chair, watching the room gradually fill as the few students trickled in. Naturally no one willingly chose to sit near him. He sat in his own splendid isolation. So much for sharing the newspaper this morning.

The professor, an aging man who was quickly nearing his retirement day, entered the room last. He pulled his faded tweed jacket closer to his shivering frame and removed a stained handkerchief from his breast pocket. Most students were already used to the gross blowing sounds that the professor made every morning before class. Half of them had stopped grimacing at the airy noise that came from the old man emptying his snot into the fabric.

"Good mor-" he began before breaking into a short fit of coughing.

Another thing the students were used to: the professor spending anywhere from five to ten minutes coughing out the morning plans.

As the classroom of twelve students listened between the hacking and the general rundown of what would be covered today, as well as what they should remember from the day previous.

Usually class was very boring, but Arthur welcomed monotonous to take his mind off of the strange feeling that had felt like nails running down his spine. He was so into the monotonous droning that he nearly fell asleep.

Class was over before he knew it. Maybe because he had been half dozing through most of it.

For the rest of the day Arthur focused intently on his teachers' lectures, becoming more and more absorbed into what the teachers had to say. He had wondered how safe it would be to walk home alone. Why hadn't convincing himself that it was all his imagination or his deceased grandmother worked?

The time was early in the evening when his classes were through. It was only today that they ran to this time. Generally they ended mid-afternoon, but twice a week wasn't too bad to sit just a little longer.

The Briton's growling stomach alerted him of his body's needs. The steady pounding in his head reminded him of the tea time he had missed. Call him crazy, but when he missed his tea time he got massive headaches.

Unfortunately for him his last class had assigned a research project due in three days' time. He'd have to hit the library today if he wanted to work at a steady pace rather than a rushed, half-assed job. Of all days to need to stay late, it had to be the day that he had been spooked.

First thing was first though, and tea was everything to him. Maybe a quick meal to accompany the tea while he was at it.

When he had stepped outside, the rain had stopped. For now, he added. The sky was dark from the heavy clouds gathered over London. It would be raining on and off, for sure.

Arthur took a quick visit to the same café he had visited this morning, buying himself tea and a meal of bread and soup. He had hurried from the university to the café as quickly as he could to avoid being outside and in the open.

He wished he could have taken his time eating, or even gone home to cook, but the report wasn't going to research itself, nor did he have enough knowledge of the subject to write it on his own.

The trip back to the university was also quick. He took a visit to the library, finding comfort in the fact that he was not alone in the room of books and knowledge.

Finding a spot in the middle, Arthur set the messenger bag to the side of the chair, pulling out the papers setting out his guidelines for the report. To his annoyance the corner of the page was crumpled. He laid it flat on the table before smoothing it out, grimacing when that didn't completely work.

Once he skimmed it thrice, he stood up and went to search for the books he would need. Unsurprisingly he was a frequent visitor of the university's library, as well as any other library and bookstore in the area of his home. He knew the workings of the Dewy Decimal System by heart.

Four books would have to do it. He would certainly attempt to finish his research today; maybe even start the rough draft.

He brought the four heavy books back to his seat, pulling out his notebook and pen. Despite having the key points already typed on paper in front of him, he felt much better writing it out in his notebook.

There were exactly seven other people in the library besides him when he cracked open the first book.

Three books and four pages of front-and-back written notes and Arthur found himself as the only person in the room.

He looked up, stretching and hearing multiple pops in his back and neck. Upon realizing he was the very last person in the room he slammed the book shut and closed his notebook. He made quick work of returning the books were he found them and was out the door before he knew it.

His heart was thudding in his chest as he threw the door open to fresh air and pounding rain. The rain left a foggy appearance over London. As far as he could see –which was only about ten feet forward- London was under a misty cloud of water.

Arthur sucked in a breath and chewed his lower lip, observing the surroundings of the late night. Not a person in sight, he noticed.

That was either very good or very bad.

On one hand, no one was around to spook him.

On the other hand, there was no one around to save him.

No matter what it was, it was extremely abnormal. There was never not a car, or a person doing their business. London, no matter how bad the weather could get, had people walking or driving about.

He could sprint for it - or at least his best impression of sprinting- which would more or less look like a stuttered jogging pace. Perhaps it was best no one was around to realize what a failure he was when it came to physical activity.

The physically-inept Briton tore down the streets of London, doing his best to see through the rain as he spattered against his face. Running was only made harder as he carried his messenger bag, trying to hold it away from the thigh it had been banging against. His anxious mind made the large buildings rise up, trapping him in the middle of the main road.

He felt foolish as he ran, his breath clouding in front of him. He must be crazy, or stupid. There was nothing there, so why was he running? Why just today?

The thought occurred to him that even if he did make it home safe and sound today, whether or not his strange paranoia continued, there could still be something scaring him during the rest of the week, and then on.

Paranoia didn't start up for no reason, he was certain.

Arthur, as dumb as he thought it was, slowed to a stop. He panted heavily, looking around quickly. Still no one.

"All right, you wanker," he muttered under his breath. He didn't know if he was talking to himself or to what he believed to be watching him; following him.

"Show yourself."

So he waited. He listened carefully. He watched the barren streets like a hawk.

Nothing. He wasn't sure if he should be laughing or crying at his sudden, blatant lunacy.

He was frustrated. Here he was, standing alone in the rain, soaked through his clothes. Shouting at imaginary demons, no less. No wonder he didn't have friends.

Arthur was just about to take a step forward, a step to put all of this ridiculous paranoia behind him, when he heard the clinking of metal.

Needless to say he was frozen in place.

The rhythm of the metal hitting stone was steady, as though something were dropping at a constant rate. The sounds grew louder though; closer, dare he say. Arthur was not alone on the streets of London, and definitely not in the good way.

Footsteps, he realized.

The building set up made the noises appear as though they were coming from all around. He couldn't pinpoint the direction that the steps came from.

_Run, run_, his mind ordered him. His legs trembled, held fast out of fear. All those movies he had criticized for the main character standing stupidly, waiting for their death, he could no longer blame. His mouth had run dry; his heart beat so loudly in his ears he was sure he'd go deaf. He felt light headed, as if he wasn't really wasn't inside his own body. At the moment he was really wishing he wasn't in his own body. Maybe he'd be safer that way.

The footsteps were louder, closer now. He wouldn't be surprised if they were right behind him now.

_Turn around_, he now told himself, though the action was resisted at first.

Arthur hesitantly looked behind him, his breath catching when he realized there really was someone there. He managed to get a brief look at what was behind him. The rest of his body moved once it had acknowledged the source of fear. Maybe it would let him run away now.

As though his feet had been held down by invisible hands, Arthur pulled free from the spell of terror, bolting down the street.

No way had he imagined that.. that thing! He didn't get a good look at it, but he knew what he saw.

Something that towered over him. Maybe it was well over ten feet high! Three piercing yellow eyes that glowed in the dark were staring him down, maybe staring straight into his soul. It wore a bulky metal suit of armor, gothic in style. A large, almost pill-shaped object hung from its back. A pod of some sort, maybe, but Arthur wasn't sure. A gun large enough to beat an elephant as though it were a bat hung on its side. Arthur didn't know guns could get that big. His mind only had time to jump to conclusions, but it looked as though it could have come from outer space.

Despite the heavy burning in his legs, the fire in his lungs, and icy terror that clawed at his heart, Arthur pushed on, traveling down side streets and between buildings. Anything he had to do to escape the monster.

He didn't hear the sound of pursuit once he felt he had gotten far enough. Arthur was pressed against the side of a building, gasping for breath as quietly as he could manage.

Many thoughts raced through his head at once.

Should he keep moving?

Should he return home?

Was it still following him?

Had he escaped?

What was safe?

Why did it want him?

There were far too many questions for him to keep up with. Arthur had to act now, think later.

He stepped out from the safety of the building's cover. He recognized where his legs had taken him to. He ought to go to a place that was certain to have other people. Safety in numbers, his father always told him.

As soon as he had stepped away from the building, he found himself face to face with the empty street. Perhaps he really had outran the monster?

Fear raked its claws across his heart again, and for a good reason, too.

Arthur turned around, locking eyes with three yellow dots of light. His breath caught in this throat before he could scream, no matter how much he wanted to cry for help.

Before he could do much more, a large hand shot out, knocking him soundly across the head.

The Briton was out cold before he hit the ground.

No one was there to witness the capture of the young British male that night as the creature placed his limp body into the pod on its back. No one saw the metal-armored creature walk to the waters surrounding London, stepping in to a strange floating pod and diving down into the water, never to surface again.

Arthur awoke in darkness, something roughly pawing at his body.

The first thing he became aware of was the tight confines that his body was in.

He found himself in a cramped fetal position with walls pressing against him on all sides. His head ached worse than when he was without tea. He could only vaguely recall being hit. He could feel his messenger bag underneath him, cushioning him only slightly. When he looked to see what was nudging at him, he found thick, gloved hands trying to grasp him under his arms.

He had little option to jerk or struggle as there was too little room. He allowed the hands to lift him from his confines, dragging him out and dropping him to a slightly wet floor.

"Hey!" he shouted nervously, "where did you take me?"

Unsurprisingly his question went unanswered. Only a small groan was uttered from the tremendous beast that stood over him.

There was little lighting in the location. The room, if he could call it that, was only large enough to allow the monster to crouch. He could probably walk from one end of the room to the other in five long steps.

In the center was a raised platform with a few controls to it. To his right, or to the front of the control platform, was a window that served as the fourth wall for the structure.

It was looking through this that Arthur realized he was not in a room.

He was underwater sinking deeper and deeper with fish swimming past him. Sharks and whales in the distance took no notice of the small room that sank through the waters, sometimes bumping rocky edges and crushing brightly colored sea creatures.

"We're underwater?" Arthur asked, mostly to himself. "But how? Where would this take us?" What would this accomplish? He suddenly remembered the disappearances around the world. Could this be it? Strange monsters dragging unwilling people underwater to… to… what? To drown them? To eat them? To put them in a cage below the surface of the ocean? Maybe this thing had a collection of people. Maybe it liked to kick them out of the small room and watch them struggle for the surface that was impossible to swim to.

The metalman made no move to grab him as Arthur stood up and walked around. Arthur watched it carefully as he looked at the control box in the center of the room.

He was looking for a button that maybe suggested returning to the surface.

Unfortunately there was no such thing.

The buttons, from left to right, were labeled: Lights, Window, Introduction, Emergency. While he was very well tempted to hit the Emergency button, he had a feeling this was not the kind of Emergency it would solve.

He hit the lights button first; only succeeding in shutting off the dim lighting he was provided. He quickly solved this by hitting it again. He was still trapped in a semi-dark room with a strange monster he could never have dreamed of. The window button did fuck- all, and the Emergency button would be the last thing he pressed.

"Well, shit."

With nothing to lose he pressed the introduction button, thinking that it too did squat when the dim lights shut off. The window was covered with a white screen, like a movie screen. Elevator-like music filled the small room as the screen lit up and began to play a clip.

_ "Hola! This is un comercial telling you about Antonio's Greens located in __Mercado de Productores__! Special price, just for you! Stop on by today!"_

Arthur could only blink at the browned haired male on the screen as he cheerily displayed his shop. The background showed many people happily shopping for food. Farmer's Market, the caption below Antonio said.

The video quickly switched to a black screen. Music continued to play so Arthur had to assume it was not yet over.

_In the beginning, there were two men. Two men with a big dream that would change the world for those deserving something better_. White text with a typewriter sound effect spread across the black screen.

_ In 1939 two men made their dream come true!_

A man with messy brown hair and many unruly curls appeared on screen first, followed by a stern man with long blonde hair swept back from his forehead.

_Romulus Vargas and Adalbert Beilschmidt become the founders of: Pangaea, the world away from the world. _

"Today you will find something fantastic, something amazing. Today you will see 'the world away from the world.' Today, you have been chosen to see Pangaea!" an announcer's voice broadcasted around the room.

The image on the screen had changed to the two men introduced as the creators of the so called Pangaea. Romulus stood proudly, waving enthusiastically. Adalbert wore a stern frown, looking equally proud but far more mature.

"Ciao! This is Romulus speaking, and we're proud to bring you, a privileged human being, to our creation!" His thick Italian accent mesmerized Arthur. So he wasn't being sent to a cage at the bottom of the ocean?

A deep grunt came from the blonde male at his side.

"Indeed. You have been chosen from four million people in the world to come to Pangaea, a paradise below the Atlantic Ocean. Here, only the best of the best are permitted. It is a society for only the brightest, quickest, and most talented in the world.  
"Your talents were recognized and you were invited to Pangaea. You have made the right choice. Welcome home."

With that, the two men faded from the screen and the white screen shut off. The dim light returned to the room and Arthur was left in silence.

He looked at the buttons one more time before hitting window, and then Emergency.

Arthur found himself disappointed at first. The Emergency button was broken, it appeared. He had expected sirens, flashing lights. Maybe the creature to freak on him?

But no. He received little to no reaction from the stooped beast in the corner of the room.

The window button was more impressive, and he had already guessed its function.

Thought it had seemingly not worked the first time, now it drew the movie screen away and returned to him the view from the large window.

This was where his disappointment turned into awe.

Before him the window displayed a view of grand lights, tall buildings, and more fish.

Tall buildings sat on the floor of the ocean, lighting up the area with neon lights. On top of those buildings were a few other levels with other buildings sitting on top. Arthur noticed the room was moving closer to them. To the side he saw signs, telling him how far below the ocean he was, how close he was to the docking station, and a few advertisements for a few of the fantastic wonders that awaited fellow 'geniuses' like him.

To him, it was like the legends of Atlantis, the underwater city that had sunk. He would have thought so had he not listened to the introduction given to him on the screen.

Domes stood atop some of the highest buildings, while a network of clear tunnels connected one building to another. Some of the tunnels had cracked or burst, disconnecting some path ways. Arthur wondered if the inside of the buildings were flooded.

Signs revealed the name of some locations, such as bars, strip clubs, restaurants, and more.

There was little he could do until they reached the docking station. Arthur sat back and watched the building draw nearer, opening a small garage and allowing the room to pass through. At this point Arthur wondered if he should be calling it a boat or a submarine. It couldn't be called a room anymore, now that it had brought him to a docking station.

The submarine had entered the garage and now traveled upwards. From what he could tell, a red light flashed up top, lighting the water red. Maybe the Emergency button had really worked? But who would see it? He had to assume that everyone in the underwater city had drowned.

An alarm could be heard, however muted it was from their location. Arthur took it as a sign that they were getting closer and closer. What would happen then? When they reached the surface of the docking station where he assumed they would depart the submarine, what then? Would the beast take him and eat him? Would it force his head under the water until the bubbles stopped?

This creature came from this place, he had to assume. Maybe the geniuses that lived here had made it. So there could be more, couldn't there?

Just what kind of place could this be?

Arthur felt the submarine come to a stop, feeling it shake a bit from something locking it in place. Just outside the window was a light that read 'draining.' The water around the submarine disappeared, seemingly draining out elsewhere. The red light switched to green, reading 'draining complete.' As if that wasn't obvious enough. Arthur had the feeling they would be leaving shortly, and any and all questions would remain unanswered.

Before he ran out of chances, he reached into the pod that he had been transported in, grabbing his messenger bag at the bottom. He wondered why the creature hadn't just ripped it off of his person while he had been in the streets of London, rather than take it with them.

The monster reached out a meaty hand and slapped the thick glass of the window hard, making Arthur jump as he recalled how strong it was.

Apparently there had been more of a point to slamming its hand against the window than intimidating the Briton, because the window also served as a door.

The creature climbed out first, blocking the door to prevent Arthur from making a run for it.

It straightened out once it stepped out completely, waiting at the entrance for its prisoner to follow. It reached in and Arthur stepped back, thinking it meant to grab him in one large hand and drag him out. Instead it grabbed the container Arthur had been carried in, equipping it back on its back.

Deciding sitting around and waiting for nothing would get him nowhere but dead, and not wanting to test the metalman's patience, Arthur crept towards the opening, taking a tentative step out.

As soon as he had made his way out of what he now realized to be a larger sort of pod, like the one on the creature's back, he was grabbed, tucked under the metal suit's arm. Before he knew it, wind was rushing at him and he was speeding through rooms and tunnels.

Arthur clenched his jaw tightly. With all the jostling about he was afraid he would bite his tongue off. He was bumped roughly into its hard metal side, his messenger bag bumping into his own side. He hoped nothing fell out. He could only be glad he wasn't placed on the side that the gun hung from. He could only imagine how much it would hurt to constantly beat himself against the strange weapon.

They exited one tube only to turn left and into another, and only to turn right at the end of that tube. Arthur had no idea how it knew where it was going without some sort of map. There was only an entire network of tubes that could lead anywhere in the large city. He had little time to watch the underwater world pass by as they ran through the tunnels. He could only glimpse the neon signs directing them to certain places in the city.

Finally they reached the end of a tube, bursting through the exit and running on top of the fallen metal door. Before them, Arthur was exposed to part of the city. Maybe not the best part, but certainly not the worst.

He had been unable to hear it from the tunnels, but now it was deafeningly clear. Sirens were going off. The warning kind.

Buildings were collapsed or damaged. Some were even on fire, as though they had recently caught. The city within the underwater utopia was too large for Arthur to take in at once. There were too many things for him to see.

Pathways between the buildings were littered with bodies and broken pieces of a bit of everything around them. Scraps of trash were plastered to the ground while dry coats of blood painted the ground and the sides of most buildings a dark brown.

War had happened here, as far as Arthur could gather.

The enchanted Briton was denied the chance to further study the battlegrounds when the sound of gunfire sounded in the distance. A dull roar similar to what the creature carrying him could make was heard faintly.

Hearing the groan, the thing carrying him took notice of it and turned in the opposite direction. It knew what was going on, apparently.

Maybe it was being hunted? Maybe they were some sort of race of gargantuan, humanoid animals that had a small group down here? Maybe they were being hunted by people? Arthur wondered if he had a chance of being saved.

He found himself being shaken like a ragdoll once more as the beast tore through the city with a very precise location in mind. Arthur didn't know how it did it, but the creature didn't hesitate to turn corners or run down alleyways. It knew where it was taking him.

More gunfire was heard as they charged onwards, spurring the metalman on. Arthur couldn't believe how quick it was, despite its bulk and heavy equipment. It didn't even clip corners of buildings as it made sharp turns and seemingly split second decisions.

As they rounded a corner that would take them out of a messy alleyway with a few torn up bodies and upturned trashcans, Arthur felt a tremendous force collide with them before he understood what was going on.

Arthur was thrown to the ground as the metalman discarded him, groaning and growling as it prepared the gun on its hip.

Winded and confused, Arthur picked himself up off the ground from where had been carelessly tossed to the side. No broken bones. Just bruises. That wasn't his biggest problem though. He didn't know what hit the beast but he wasn't going to ignore the fact that he had been let go.

Many figures wearing strange gas masks ran at him. Or rather, the monster. Arthur had a hard time believing there were people down here.

Some of them raised their hands, others raised their guns. Lightning or fire, much to his disbelief shot from their hands. Deciding he was crazy and the pressure from being a fuck ton of feet underwater was screwing with him, Arthur decided not to stay to see what the hell could shoot from the guns.

Pivoting sharply, Arthur ran for his life for the second time this day.

He sprinted for the first alleyway he could find, taking random turns and avoiding staying out in the open. He tried taking cover behind overturned dressers or other items that had been removed from houses or stores nearby and used as a shield. The sight had been bizarre at first, but once Arthur saw bullet holes and nicks from sharp weapons in the wood of dressers or other stolen furniture, he understood.

No matter how far he had been from his original spot, sirens still were heard. Maybe not as sharply, but his guess was that the entire underwater area could hear them. Why not in the tubes though?

Many doors were torn open, left hanging by a single hinge. Some had been torn down, or dented in, like something had rammed it.

Of course, with all these open doors Arthur considered hiding out in someone's old house. He felt that sitting still and attempting to hide from the creatures that seemed to know every street corner and pebble of the city would be pointless though. He kept moving.

Gunfire was heard from all over. Arthur tried to avoid those sounds, despite the fact that it was quite possibly his only hope to talk to potential humans. If it meant he would be near another one of those metal monsters, he'd say no thank you, good day sir!

No matter how much adrenaline and fear he had fueling the energy behind his running, Arthur was slowing down quickly. He struggled to keep his lungs sucking in air as he ran as far as he could. He needed to find somewhere safe to rest for a brief moment. Just until he got the wind back in his lungs.

Arthur found himself in a shopping district once he'd made it away from the alleyways. He stuck close to the building faces to avoid remaining out in the open. He peeked around the corner every time he turned. In the distance, gunfire was rapid and screams were constant. Some sounded an awful lot like human screams. Arthur was torn between seeking them out for help or to keep hiding.

Around him, most stores had their windows smashed. People had raided the stores of anything salvageable in the ruin of the city. He crawled into the nearest building through its smashed window once he discovered the door was unmoving from the outside. Something was blocking it from within the store. He took care not to touch the broken glass still embedded in the wall. He took more care not to touch much of the glass on his way in, too.

He immediately found himself gagging and clapping a hand to his mouth. The stench in the room had been ten times worse than the stench that hung around the city. Arthur had thought it to be the city rotting from the inside out. Technically it was actually rotting inside.

Human corpses in different stages of decay. Some had more pieces missing and were decaying at a quicker rate. Many were without skin at this point. Eyes had long popped long ago. As far as he could tell none of these corpses had been moved from the day they had died, if the blood stains below them told any story.

Their position of the room looked like they had been surprised. They had been in the middle of a normal day, purchasing –Arthur took a look at what exactly was sold here- tools? They had been attacked in the middle of buying tools for whatever reason. They had been ambushed?

Arthur couldn't look at them anymore. They all told a story by their clothes, their positions in the shop. Some even had their expressions still plastered on their face. Mostly surprise, if their mouths could tell him anything. Or maybe it was just the fact that a few were missing their jaws and looked like they could be trapped in a moment of surprise.

He couldn't stand to look at them anymore. He didn't think he could tolerate the smell much longer without vomiting. He had come in here to get a breather, but if he couldn't even breathe in the room, it was pointless to remain here.

The blonde discovered the reason the door had not budged even a bit when he had tried to open it. Adding more to his confusion, the Briton observed that the door had been barricaded with many chairs. So they had trapped themselves inside and forgotten the window? Arthur was beyond confused and beyond trying to piece it together.

With little hesitation he was crawling out of the store the way he had come in. He was a little too anxious to remove himself from the room of melted, rotting bodies and hissed as a sharp pain lanced his hand.

He had been careless on his exit. His hand had a fairly shallow cut across the palm. He could only grimace at his stupidity and the stinging coming from the wound as he carried on. He had to. He would just make sure not to touch anything in this probably-disease-infested city. There had to be a shite ton of diseases if there were dead bodies hanging around and waiting to turn into dust.

Arthur kept his hand clenched into a fist and continued to walk through the area. He took care to listen to the surroundings. Other than the faint sound of guns in the far distance, Arthur could only hear the distant siren and the crackling of flames from random barrels that were placed around the city, burning trash. Had someone lit these? He didn't know their main intent, but they worked well as a dull light source.

He took refuge into the alleyways that would hopefully take him out of the shopping area. He didn't have a plan; just keep moving.

He wondered what he could do for food. Break in to the houses and shops and see what had been left, he supposed.

Gradually he began noticing things that stuck out among the trash in the narrow spaces he walked through.

Bright yellow posters with a crude, almost vague portrait of a man with blonde hair, suspenders hanging from his white collared shirt, and glasses hung on the wall or crumpled on the ground with the rest of the trash. Dirt and blood were smeared across many of the posters.

He stood confidently with his hands on his hips, looking out into the distance. His face lacked any specific features save for the lining of his nose. A mystery of a man, a man with no face, a man whom they didn't know whose face went to? Propaganda implied many things.

There were several types of posters with the man on it. Some had words. Some had different backgrounds. All of them included the man standing confidently though. In a few, there were even a few other people behind him.

**Wanted For Treason to the People** was written on most of them.

A bad guy, then, Arthur concluded.

He moved on. He could only hope that it wasn't that man who was after him.

Upon leaving the shopping district he found an area with apartment buildings. He debated on taking refuge in one of these, even if most of the windows were shattered and quite a few of them looked as though they had shared a fire.

Would he be safe if he hid in one of the rooms?

Before he could make up his mind he froze. He could almost swear he heard voices.

Arthur panicked as indecision and fear ran through him. Friends? Enemies? No matter what they turned out to be, they were coming closer. Three voices, if he was sure. Arthur dashed to the side of an apartment building and held his breath, listening for the people who were sure to come through.

"-an said the new shipment was intercepted."

"How are we supposed to find it?"

"Maybe if we split up and took a different district we would have a better chance of success."

The Briton peeked around the corner of the building to spot three figures walking away from him, their backs facing him.

Two young men and a child. The first young man had semi-wavy brown hair. His green uniform had many holes and stains in it. The second young man had short blonde hair and a slightly clearer brown uniform. The child had short brown hair and struggled to keep up with the other two. They spoke in a hushed voice as if they would be overheard.

"Well we have to come back with something!" the small one cried fearfully.

"And we will," the blonde assured somewhat shakily.

The older brunette said nothing as they walked on.

Arthur was torn between exposing himself to ask for him, or to allow them to continue on and go with his original plan of squatting in one of the abandoned, fire-damaged apartment buildings.

He straightened his clothes as best he could with one un-bloodied hand to make himself look a bit more presentable. Just because he was in some sort of wasted society didn't mean he had to appear as though he had been rolling around in it.

Inhaling and exhaling once, he retreated from his undercover spot at the side of the building.

"Excuse me, my good sirs?" he called out hesitantly.

They whipped around, startled.

The smallest one squealed in fear, trembling hard enough that Arthur could see it from the distance he stood at. The blonde one examined him closer, pushing his thick rimmed glasses up on his nose. The wavy haired brunette had terror written all over his face.

No gas masks, he noticed. They must be the good guys.

"May I trouble one of you for my whereabouts? I'm… new," he finished lamely.

The trio stood frozen for a second more before they all turned and sprinted away. Arthur took a moment to register their sudden retreat before he gave chase, shouting apologies and questions after them.

All three of them were very quick, he discovered. None of them lagged behind as they ran away from him. Perhaps the little one was a bit faster, but he seemed to be waiting for the older boys to show him where to go. Arthur could hear him sobbing up ahead.

"I'm sorry! I don't know what I'm doing though!" he called, trying to keep them in sight.

As if they had everything been all planned out, the three of them split up.

Arthur gaped as he watched each disappear down individual paths. He wasn't sure who to follow, and they were all disappearing so quickly from his line of sight. Before he could make up his mind on who to follow, he lost sight of all three. He could hear very faint sobbing sounds from the little one but decided trying to catch up would be useless.

With nothing left to do and little idea where he was or where he could go, Arthur turned around and attempted to backtrack to the apartment buildings. He would be kipping out there after all, it seemed.

He took a few wrong turns and had attempted to backtrack those, only getting himself further lost in the maze of buildings. He didn't even know what half of the buildings were for. He could only make out the old restaurants that were on fire because something inside had presumably caught fire.

Arthur had noticed that he couldn't see a ceiling to where another level supposedly sat. It felt like being in one large room that encased buildings and houses.

Boxes were stacked up around the messy city. Some contained rotting food, or ammo clips to guns he had never heard of. Some were empty, while others were broken. There was nothing useful to him at the moment in any of them. More burning trashcans were placed around the area. Some had been knocked over, spilling fire onto the trash piles. Arthur wondered how this place hadn't burned to the ground yet.

He had no idea where he was at this point. He might as well forget trying to sleep in one of the apartment buildings and just sleep in a restaurant not on fire.

Heaving a resigned sigh, Arthur made a beeline for one of the few buildings not emitting smoke from broken windows or holes in the ceiling. He peeked through the boarded up window to look for a place to sleep inside of the diner.

It was dark inside, but from what he could tell, tables had been knocked over and chairs had been destroyed. No dead bodies in here. It was probably the best he could ask for.

"Excuse me?" someone tapped on his shoulder, making him jump five feet in the air and squeaking in surprise.

He turned around, heart pounding and trying to pretend it had been a manlier cry of fear than that he had yelped.

A young man stood before him, cradling a sleeping, injured cat. His messy brown hair gave him an appearance of one who had just rolled out of bed. His shirt had many holes in it, some looked like fire had eaten away at the fabric.

"Who are you?" Arthur demanded. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

The man stroked the cat's head slowly, looking at Arthur with disdain. He gave it a second's thought before he lifted his hand and pressed it to Arthur's forehead.

Arthur had been about to protest about the sudden physical contact before he saw a blinding white, and feel a searing pain rip through his head.

The brunette lazily watched the blonde stranger's eyes roll to the back of his head before cutting the electricity and releasing him. He would bring him back with him and see what the leader had to say about him.

A/N: No lie, I didn't really do a thorough edit of this. Both betas are going to college in a few days and I literally just finished this. I don't think I have the patience to sit and edit right now. All mistakes are mine, and apologized for!


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Yeah, this is really, super short compared to 10,000 words for the other chapters and what not. I'm mostly sorry, but this was the way the chapter was planned. Expect the next to be extremely long.

"Heracles, welcome back!" many people greeted when the brunette walked into the hotel they'd called home. They saw the typical cat he brought back, but the sight of an unconscious stranger slung across his shoulder was beyond bizarre. Someone ran off to tell their leader of the stranger brought back.

"Hey, I heard you're back!" the young, bespectacled blonde greeted, eying the new guy warily. "Who the hell is this?"

The Grecian just shrugged and asked where he wanted his cargo.

"Bring him into the back room. We'll see what we think of him when he wakes up," Alfred requested, leading the way and parting the crowd of people who had gathered around to see Heracles' prize.

The twins followed the other two to the back room, observing the eldest male in the room dumping the unfamiliar face onto a torn cot they had salvaged. He left the room shortly after, cradling the injured animal and retreating to the room he kept his many other saved cats.

Alfred, Feliciano, and Lovino stood over the prone form of the Briton, searching for any sign of threat. Lovino was the first to notice the messenger bag that had been dropped off with him.

"What if he's got explosives in there?" he inquired, snatching it and sniffing for any scent of gunpowder.

"Look at his clothes! They're so clean!" the younger Italian pointed out excitedly. "Who is he?"

"Beats me, but if he's a spy he'll be thrown out of here as soon as he wakes up."

"Oh my god, look at those fucking eyebrows!"

"What if he's innocent?"

"How could he be innocent? Clean clothes means he gets good treatment, good resources. Must mean he's from their side, _sí_?"

"I think he's innocent!"

"Well I'm searching his bag, innocent or not!"

Lovino stormed off with the bag, his mind made up. Alfred and Feliciano shared a look before taking a seat beside the cot. Who knew how long it would be until the stranger with large eyebrows woke up? He would face immediate interrogation. Hopefully Heracles hadn't screwed with his brain too much.

It wasn't often the other side sent over spies to snoop. It wasn't often they caught those spies in their act of snooping, either. So this one was either a very bad spy or not a spy at all.

Arthur found his mind teetering on the edge of consciousness. He felt himself fading in and out of the conversation held between the trio of rebels. He practically felt his brain trying to piece together the last things he remembered.

Leaving the college building and feeling fear. Running through the streets of London at some godforsaken hour because he had been convinced he was terrified of something.

He then remembered actually bumping into that something and running away from it. He wished he didn't remember when he was caught.

Remembering what had happened after he had been caught had been a little harder to recollect. It had all been very unbelievable; all very confusing. He remembered watching through the window of the pod, watching as the underwater marvel grew larger and larger as he got closer.

The sirens were still ringing, he noticed. It was very faint. He remembered them, thus was able to listen for them.

The pursuit of the three young men he had encountered. They had been too scared to talk to him and had fled. Arthur remembered giving up once they'd all split up. He could recall some of the backtracking he had done, only to end up somewhere new. He had been surprised from behind by someone with a cat. Then… then what?

He wasn't even sure he had heard an actual conversation or if his brain was so desperate to hear other human voices that it had conjured up a conversation for him to subconsciously listen to. He wondered what he would see if he opened his eyes; real people who had been conversing, or the side of the building he must have fallen against? Would he be lying in a heap of trash?

What he wouldn't give to just open his eyes and find himself lying in his bed back in London.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. His vision was blurry at first, but once it had focused, he saw the last thing he expected to see.

The brightest pair of blue eyes he had probably ever seen locked looks of surprise with his.

Out of shock, he couldn't help but sit up. Probably the most clichéd meeting he could imagine, if enough movies and literature he had encountered ever used it. He could practically feel his teeth click as his jaw bounced when his head collided with the other's. Arthur yelped first, then the victim of his head collision.

He saw many stars flash through his vision. The Briton clenched his head as the pain rang out through his head. He wondered if he'd have a bump now. He heard the other male laughing now, telling the other to put the gun down. Gun?

Arthur lifted his heads from his head and looked to the side. He was met with the muzzle of a handgun, an auburn haired male looking down at him with one eye. His right eye was covered with a dark eye patch, making him look pirate-ish.

"Feliciano, you can put the gun down," the man he had knocked heads with said cheerfully. "It was an accident."

The young man addressed as Feliciano looked a bit skeptical but lowered the gun at the orders of the spectacled blonde. He then turned to Arthur, an expectant look on his face.

"So, how are you? Aside from bumping noggins with me, you're okay, right?"

Arthur stared at him, wondering if he'd seen his face before.

"Where am I?" he asked, ignoring the question and asking his own. Apparently these were not the next few words the seemingly familiar man wanted to hear next. His expression quickly morphed to one of open-minded excitement, to narrow-minded suspicion.

"Look here, you- you eyebrow monster!" he started, losing a bit of face upon the quickly made up name. Arthur could only lift one of said eyebrows in question.

"You come here, into my base, and you demand questions? No way." He brought his fist down; pounding the edge of the cot Arthur lay on. "You answer my questions first or Feliciano blows your brains out, got me?" Sensing his cue, Feliciano brought the handgun up again and released the safety.

The sudden 'good cop-bad cop' switch-off started Arthur. He looked between the gun steadily locked on to his face, to the stern appearance the young male had taken on.

"I have no idea where I am and what happened, I don't want to be here and I'm pretty fucking sure I saw some people shooting goddam lightning out of their hands," Arthur quickly rambled, trying to cover the question as thoroughly as possible. "I'm freaking the bloody hell out because last thing I remember is running around this godforsaken city trying to escape that… that gargantuan monster!"

With the question hastily answered, Alfred dropped the aggressive, suspicious appearance and reached over to Feliciano's gun, pressing it down. Arthur heard the safety being clicked on.

"Sorry to hear that, Art. Where are you from?" he asked, pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose.

"London, England, sir. That _thing_ abducted me and dragged me down here, I think."

The blonde snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Don't call me sir. That sounds like an old man thing, y'know?" And true, the male did not look like 'an old man.' He couldn't be much older or younger than Arthur. "Welcome to Hell, by the way."

"Uh, thanks, I think," Arthur responded sheepishly. "I say, I swear I've seen you before!" He searched his mind, trying to remember a familiar face from England, only to come up empty. Not from England or Uni, then. But where?

_Blonde hair, glasses, a white buttoned shirt. _

"Ah! You're from those wanted posters!" the Briton suddenly exclaimed. "You're wanted for treason to… whoever is left down here, aren't you?" The poster hadn't shown a face or bright blue eyes, but he didn't need that detail to guess that it was talking about this fellow right here.

"I beg to differ!" he shot back hotly. "I'm the hero in this story." As if that would explain everything and suddenly clear up whom he was for the current situation. "Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

There was a knocking to their left, causing them all to turn and look.

Arthur did a double-take as a darker haired version of Feliciano walked in. He thought he had been seeing double due to the trauma done to his head today.

The first thing he noticed other than the fact that this newcomer had a darker shade of hair than the gun wielder in the room was the noticeably gloomier features fixed on his face. His left eye was covered with a dark eye patch, similar to the auburn hair's features. The second thing he noticed was that the man was in possession of _his_ messenger bag.

"We're brothers, dumbass," the deep, accented voice commented upon seeing Arthur's confusion. "Stupid fucker had this in here. No explosives, by the way."

Alfred caught the bundle of paper thrown carelessly at him, grinning widely once he realized what had come to his possession.

"Wow! A newspaper! I haven't seen one of these in… Jesus Christ! Look at the d-"

"The date, yes, I know," the other shot back. "I saw it."

"What is it? What is it?" Feliciano asked excitedly, leaning over the leader's shoulder. Arthur felt forgotten. He coughed lightly, re-announcing his presence. The group looked at him quickly before turning their attention back to the newspaper.

"1975, wow! A lot of time has passed us by, huh? And look at what the Surface is doing!" Alfred pointed to some article on an event that had occurred. "Hey, look! They have a column for the people who are going missing! They sure keep track, huh?"

"Excuse me?" Arthur coughed again, confusion building as he watched the trio get flustered over the events happening in London. "Why is this so exciting?

Alfred handed the newspaper over to Feliciano and his brother, bringing his attention back to the Briton.

"Good news is, we now know you're not a spy for the Order! You really are from London! Great to hear!" Alfred clapped him heavily on the back a few times, making Arthur practically pitch forward in his seat.

"The Order? What? And of course I'm from London! If I tell you I have no idea where I am and what those things out there are, then listen next time!" He felt his temper growing short.

"Yeah, yeah. Excuse us if we didn't believe you. We're just a little nervous when strangers start showing up. But you have a newspaper. You're undoubtedly from the Surface!"

The Briton had no idea why a newspaper would assure them of his authenticity of being from the world above, but he shrugged it off.

"Just… Please. Tell me where I am. What's going on here?"

Alfred thought about it, counting on his fingers something and mouthing a few words.

"Okay, so look. You totally rode in the Pod, right? Well that video should have given you a good idea of where you are.

"You're in the Atlantic Ocean – below it, I mean,- and Romulus and Adalbert were the founders of this place, Pangaea. They made it all themselves!" The fact that the two brothers perked up at the mentioning of the founders did not escape Arthur's notice. He let Alfred continue.

"There are districts and levels that make up this place, I'm sure you saw the levels, at least. The districts are kind of another story. It's like…" the young leader paused, screwing up his expression in thought. "It's like having a building in a building. You're walking through hallways and doorways to get to different districts and to go to buildings. Pangaea is the entirety of this place. The WHOLE thing, y'know?

"So with Pangaea being the whole place, you've got your cities and areas in here. For the most part, we're in the middle. The bottom floor is completely collapsed in on itself. Water is rising gradually as the place fills up. I'm sure you've noticed plenty of leaks around here, too. Not helping. Anyways, like I said. It's like walking down a huge hallway to get to the next area of the city. You'll find different things if you walk so far, or if you take the elevators up.

"The elevators, mind you, are unavailable to us, the rebels. The Order has complete control of those, so we don't usually go up the floors unless we use a few secret passages that we made. I can show you those sometime, if you like."

The unnamed brother spoke up quickly, scowling and shooting Arthur a nasty look.

"Don't, Alfred. You show him those passages, he tells the Order. He rats us out, they close up those holes we made. We don't make it to the food and so on."

Arthur had just been about to shoot in that he wasn't a spy before Alfred beat him to it.

"Relax, Lovino. He's not a spy. He had a newspaper!"

The two shared a long stare-down, neither wanting to look away. Feliciano looked between his brother and his leader worriedly, his lip curling in a pout. Arthur could almost feel electricity crackling between them. He didn't know if it was literal or figurative.

"Wh-what about the people who can shoot lightning and shite from their hands?" Arthur spoke up, wondering if he'd even be answered. The intensity between the two made him feel as though they would never let up.

Thankfully Alfred did let go, mouthing a few words Arthur believed were curses.

"I can do it too," he responded, holding up his hand and allowing a few sparks to flicker from his finger. He snapped, making the electricity crack sharply, fizzling before it dissolved into thin air. Arthur couldn't help but stare at Alfred's fingers as though they were magic.

"M-magic?" he questioned curiously, stopping himself from reaching out to touch the fingers that had created lightning before his eyes.

Alfred laughed loudly, a sound that resonated from his chest and filled the room.

"No! It's from Gene Changers!" He didn't elaborate after that. Arthur couldn't help but feel annoyed at the fact that he had just let it linger in the air.

"Well… Can you at least tell me where we are?"

"Didn't you hear? We're in Pa-"

"Pangaea, yes, I know," Arthur cut off. "But where in Pangaea? I can't picture how large this place could be. I don't know districts. Where are we, exactly?"

Alfred flashed him a childish, lopsided grin.

"I can show you!" he offered, standing up and offering Arthur a hand.

Before Arthur could take the proffered hand, he found it slapped away by another.

"Stupid! Why would you show a spy our base? He'll just report back to the Order what's in here! He'll tell them our weaknesses; our soldier count! Stop telling him things!" Lovino spat, standing between the two blondes.

Arthur couldn't see from where he was sitting, but he saw Lovino being forced roughly to the side. He gave a yelp as Alfred placed a quick hand on his side. Arthur assumed he had been zapped lightly as a punishment, or a warning.

The Briton found the other's hand offered once more to him. He was wary to take it because he knew what could come from it.

"Sorry, thanks, but no thanks." He declined the hand, admittedly afraid of it. "I can stand on my own."

Choosing to ignore the frown that quickly slapped itself over the leader's bright smile, Arthur stood shakily, steadying himself quickly to show that he was fine and really hadn't needed the help.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to Alfred to lead the way.

A/N: This was more or less a bridge between Arthur's confusion to now having a place to fit in. I guess that's the best way to word this.

I'm really quite embarrassed it's so short compared to the other two monster chapters. It'll probably be the shortest chapter in the entire story. At least from where I can see. I actually got stuck in planning. We may hit a bump in the future until I know what I intend to do at that point.

For those who played BioShock before, you'll notice I've changed the names of the items. The names sound dumb, I realize. Just, sit with it and giggle, yeah?

Once more, all mistakes are mine, and characters belong to Himaruya!


	4. Chapter 3

Their tour began with Alfred introducing the room he had used to interrogate Arthur in. Originally it had been the backroom behind the front desk of the hotel where keys and mail bins stood against the wall. Other things had been stored in the cubbyholes now, ranging from shoes, to clothes, to guns and weapons.

As they stepped out of the room and into the lobby, Arthur noted that many things, aside from being destroyed, were also very out of order. A few trashcans were overflowing with scattered garbage littering the surrounding area. Many pieces of furniture were broken but still used, most having an adaptation to make it sturdier or more comfortable.

The carpets and walls were a bit stained, whether it was from food and drink, or anything else that could be spilled in a base. Arthur couldn't tell if the dark stains in the torn carpet were blood or something else. He couldn't imagine an invasion in what appeared to be the long-time home of many rebels.

Windows were boarded up like many other buildings around the city. A few tiny pieces of glass glittered from where he stood. They hadn't picked all of the shards up, he could tell. He hoped no one walked around here barefoot lest they risk cut feet.

In the middle, a large circular table barely held firm, the surface cracked and stained held a map. Arthur would have to look at that later, he thought. It would have to be all of Pangaea, and if he would be here a while, then he would need to know where things were. Studying the architectural structure of the ingenious underwater world wasn't a terrible idea either.

The Italian brothers shoved past Alfred and Arthur –Lovino shoved and cursed in irritation, Feliciano followed with a quick apology- and made for the computer that sat at the counter of the front desk. The computer looked much different than the ones in London currently, and Arthur was surprised that a world cut-off from the general population could develop a more advanced technology before they did.

"Oh, excellent!" Feliciano piped up, reading a long list of statistics on the screen. His brother looked over his shoulder, impassively studying the screen. "Looks like the Energy levels collected today were updated already! Who did it, I wonder? Oh, I'm so happy I could dance!"

Lovino scoffed and moved the page down, single visible eye skimming quickly over the words.

"Who cares who did it? It's not like I'm going to give them a fucking pat on the back for telling me something I already knew."

Alfred perked up interestedly. "What's it say?" The more Energy collected, the better off they were for a while.

The younger Italian hummed thoughtfully, smiling brightly. "Have a look for yourself."

Alfred left Arthur's side to peer over the Italian's shoulder, whistling appreciatively after studying the statistics a moment. Raids were becoming increasingly difficult to complete with everyone intact. Weapons and usable supplies were likewise becoming more and more challenging to locate. Alfred was impressed with the readings and saw it as a refreshing change of pace.

Peeking over the leader's shoulder proved useless, as he could make little sense of the statistics on the screen. He didn't need the intellect of Sherlock Holmes to understand what the Energy was for, but he felt he may as well inquire its use. Unfortunately, hearing the question aloud made him question his actual level of intelligence. Lovino didn't hesitate to call him out on it, either.

"You've got to be kidding me, are you stupid? Did Heracles fry your brain when he zapped you? What does it sound like it's used for?"

"Why are you so brassed off? My brain is fine, I was just asking."

"Hey, hey. Lovi, chill," Alfred commanded, shooting the auburn haired male a dirty look. He received the middle finger for his effort. "Energy does what it sounds like it's supposed to do. Not just for the buildings and the city itself, but for us. Gives us the energy to shoot lightning and other elements from our bodies, pretty much. Keeps us all alive. Energy was in surplus back when the city flourished, enough to go around for everyone. Once the War started, the levels plummeted, and we gather our own now."

"Where does it come from?"

"You remember that thing that brought you down here, don't you? That's what we call a Gatherer. They do exactly what it sounds like. Under the command of the Order they go topside and grab people, bring them down here for the mad geniuses to change them and make them useful." Alfred didn't explain how they were made useful, or useful for what purpose. Arthur could see getting tired of being left out of the loop. "We take down the Gatherers who are loaded with Energy and take it in for ourselves."

A thick eyebrow was lifted. "So they brought me down here to do what? Make this Energy?"

The spectacled man chewed his lower lip in thought. "Maybe. There are a few different jobs they could have given you. I don't know what they dragged you down here for, but we intercepted their radios and led a Raid on them. Saved you, but no one else."

"There were others? I didn't notice. I thought I was the only one in that submarine thing." There hadn't been room for more than the Gatherer and him. He definitely would have noticed if there was another metalman and a victim in there with him.

"Sure, in different spots of the city. There are a few working S-Pods left, but they're all controlled by the Order."

"I'm not the first to be saved, am I?"

Alfred laughed loudly, the sound turning a bit obnoxious once it began emitting from the back of his throat. "What kind of hero would I be if I only saved one person? We've been doing this for years, we've saved enough people on their way to the Order's laboratories."

As if they had been summoned by Alfred's loud laughing –which probably wasn't a far-off assumption- two young men entered the lobby side by side.

Arthur directed his attention towards the tall, stern faced man walking a step behind the shorter, younger male as though he were a protective dog on his heel. The taller man wore thick rimmed spectacles sporting heavy amounts of tape. His expression was as impassive as a blank slate, though his eyes held a guarded determination. His firm jaw was set to serious protector mode and visibly clenching as he inspected the newcomer. The shorter man he appeared to be protecting was quite the opposite. He was more of a boy than a man as his gentle doe-eyes portrayed the lost innocence of the underwater utopia. The young man's face was gaunt, yet full of open and honest emotion. The Brit could see why the older man was playing bodyguard for him. Arthur's heart suddenly plummeted to his stomach as he caught sight of an empty sleeve hanging loosely at the boy's side.

"Don't stare," he heard Lovino mutter angrily.

"Hey, just on time, guys!" Alfred greeted, waving them over. With their presence requested, the two drifted over. Arthur tried not to stare at the one armed blonde, and he certainly tried not to meet the large brown eyes with a mask of pity. He was absolute on avoiding the stern gaze of the older man as he appeared ready to jump in front of the young man at the slightest twitch. "Tino, Berwald, meet Arthur from the Surface London to be exact."

"Pl-pleasure," Arthur managed weakly, unable to make eye contact without feeling sick with pity.

"Oh, wow! It's been a while since we had someone new come in! I'm from Finland, by the way," the blonde known as Tino gushed excitedly, revealing he did indeed have the innocence his face expressed. He held out his remaining arm to shake hands. Arthur was honestly afraid that Berwald would rip his off if he so much as grazed the other's fingers. Even so, he politely returned the gesture and smiled uneasily. Berwald didn't so much as offer a nod of greeting.

"Great timing, though! Artie was just asking me if he was the first person we've ever saved. You ought to tell him about the time we saved you, Tino!"

"Can we not call me Artie?" he inquired in an effort to act normally.

"Oh, gee, how many years has it been? I don't even know if I remember it!" he laughed nervously, looking back to his silent companion. Somehow Arthur doubted he had difficulty remembering. It didn't seem like the kind of event that one could easily forget. "Actually, Ber, I think you saved me. You got me out of the Gatherer's grip and carried me to safety." He sighed wistfully, eyes taking a distant look. "I miss Finland terribly, though. Not that I'm not grateful! I bet you miss Sweden ," he amended.

Berwald had little reaction, if any. Perhaps a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but so fleeting Arthur must have imagined it. The man was as stone faced as ever. Arthur wondered if he could speak at all.

"Why are you still here then? Haven't you tried getting out of this place? Haven't you gone after one of those Pods?" Arthur asked quickly, scenting a way of escape. If others wanted to leave with him, he would be happy to help. He suddenly noticed the four others stiffen in posture, eyes shifting to the side as though the wall had suddenly become very interesting.

"We, ah, we have tried," Feliciano spoke up, his left eye locked onto the filthy floor. "It's just-"

"'It's just' what-the-fuck-ever," Lovino interrupted. "We lost a lot of people last time we went for the nearest S-Pod. Plenty of people got hurt. We aren't trying again anytime soon. Better sit down and wait like the rest of us." He snarled menacingly, –as menacingly as a one-eyed man could appear- stepping in front of his brother as if Arthur had made a grab at his twin. Regardless of having done no such thing Arthur found himself taking a few steps back, intimidated, only to bump into Tino.

Berwald reacted much like Lovino did, sans a screwed up facial expression. Arthur did, however, see a flash of anger in his eyes. The large Swede grabbed the Finn around the waist and pulled him behind him, even though Arthur had barely nudged him. Now Arthur stood between a wall of a great Swedish man and a pissed off Italian. He didn't know which scared him more, if he were honest with himself. Luckily for him Alfred intervened.

"Lovino, back off and take a seat!" he barked, taking on a dominant air and executing his authority as leader. "Berwald, you calm down too!" Alfred puffed out his muscular chest much like a cat puffing out to appear larger. Berwald easily outsized Alfred; naturally the leader had to look like he could take him. But maybe he could. Arthur didn't know why Alfred was leader, after all.

For a moment Arthur was afraid that the two would defy their orders and jump him. For all he knew they were fully capable of setting him on fire, or turning him into an icicle. However, Lovino sneered and gave him both of his middle fingers and stalked off, dragging a trembling Feliciano behind him. Berwald took a little longer to calm down but did eventually lower his head in submission to Alfred's orders.

"Tino, I'm sorry," Arthur murmured, daring to look around Berwald to meet Tino's eyes. Tino held no fear or resentment in his expression. If anything he looked apologetic for Berwald's overprotective behavior.

"Berwald, it's fine. It was an accident," he assured the other, gently nudging his side to get him to move. "He's always like this, I'm sorry."

Alfred cleared his throat, the tension hung heavily in the air despite the attempts on everyone's part to ignore it. "That was a touchy subject for the brothers. Just a reference for the future if you're going to be living with us."

The Briton rolled his eyes. "Is there nothing that doesn't set Lovino off? There is clearly a stick lodged up his arse, god blimey. What's his problem?"

"Don't worry about it right now. That's for him to tell you, I think. Just don't start fights on purpose, and don't let them continue. You won't win, I promise."

"Noted. Now, about that, uh, S-Pod, is it? You really have no intentions on going after one anytime soon?"

"I don't know, honestly. Not soon, that's for certain. We just had the Raid today, we need time to recover and plan. We need to see what the Order is going to do in retaliation, like they always do. But Lovino was right, we did lose a lot of people for each time we've gone after it. We lose people every time we peek out of our front door, in a sense. If we go out we need a different method of action than we've been using."

Arthur didn't want to wait, but he had little say in the matter. He couldn't ask these people to put their lives at risk for him when he offered nothing to their cause.

"Do you guys even want to leave? Or are you just trying to take out the Order?" As far as he could tell it was just a battle for supremacy of the fallen Pangaea, and people on the surface were getting dragged into it. Even if he and others left, wouldn't the problem continue to exist down below?

Alfred looked uncomfortable with the idea of leaving. "Some of us want to leave. I mean, some people had a life up top before Pangaea called them under. The ones dragged down here that we managed to save definitely want back up, but they're used to life down here now. Then there's the ones who were born here. Never been topside, never questioned it, never wanted it. Even with the war waging down here, this is home.

"But hey, I mean, we may yet go on another excursion to snatch a Pod. Just you wait. Just be patient. We don't have much, and there's always danger, but we can protect you to the best of our ability." Alfred gave him a million dollar grin and a thumbs-up. Arthur felt little reassurance with the gesture.

With a sigh of resignation, Arthur felt his shoulders slump. He looked to Tino and received a grin. Looking at Berwald only gave him a blank stare. Arthur would be avoiding him if he could help it. He had yet to meet others though, so maybe he could make a friend or two while he was here.

Just as Alfred had begun to explain the layout of the hotel and their day-to-day activities, they were interrupted by a long string of curses that created new words Arthur had never heard up top. Perhaps it was just the creativity of an angry man to make such words.

"Emergency meeting requested," was all he said, standing in the doorway on the other side of the lobby. His eye bore intensely into the leader, blatantly ignoring the Briton. "Better hurry. They want to make this quick."

"I understand. Let's go, guys." When Arthur stood behind, unsure whether or not he should be following Alfred and the group to this emergency meeting, Alfred turned back and waved him over. If he really was going to be part of this resistance group, he may as well start helping himself to information. Perhaps he could become useful to their cause and speed up the process of him getting out of there.

Lovino made no effort to hide any distaste he felt in Arthur's accompaniment to an emergency meeting on a situation he had no information about. He led the way to the meeting room quickly, keeping the pace swift in order to show Arthur's presence was highly unwanted.

"What does he want?" Alfred asked on the way over.

The Italian ignored him at first until Alfred caught up and walked side by side with him. "Not sure," he grunted finally. "Just wanted to talk for a moment. I bet it's about _him_."

"Could be. I bet he just wants to ream us a new one again. Not like we ever listen. I hope Gilbert doesn't break the screen again."

"As long as he fixes it afterwards, whatever."

They soon stepped into a large conference room with a crowd of people gathered around the static screen of a wide television mounted to the wall. Many stared at the screen expectantly, while others held a quiet conversation with a few others. A white haired man was fiddling with a series of dials on the side, whether fixing it or tuning it, Arthur couldn't tell. He had a few others at his side observing his work, but he, for the most part, seemed to be ignoring them. Arthur heard a faint thumping noise and turned to see a spiky haired blonde tapped on a microphone, testing the sound input. He wore an expression of almost child-like curiosity as he continued bumping his finger against the head of the device; quite the contrast to his tall-as-a-tree figure and the ragged trench coat he wore.

Arthur followed closely behind Alfred as they weaved their way through the crowd. Many greeted Alfred, then asking who Arthur was. Alfred told them to wait for another time where he could introduce the newcomer and proceeded to make his way to the front of the room.

"Gilbert," Alfred greeted as he took his place in front of the monitor. "Fixing something?"

The white haired man didn't look up as he fiddled with the knobs. He snorted sardonically and answered, "Not fixing. Upgrading." His voice had a coating of an accent Arthur couldn't quite place.

"Upgrading what, exactly?"

"Don't worry about it. Just rest assured that it'll be awesome when I'm done."

"That's great and all, but we've got to get this going. I heard there was an emergency meeting. Fix it later."

The white haired man backed away after cranking up one of the dials and took the microphone from the trench coat blonde, staring it down intently before he brought it to his lips and blew loudly, spittle flying from his pursed lips. Many people not watching him before he performed this startling action jumped, while few shrieked in surprise. Even those watching him, ready for a series of sound testing noises jumped a foot in the air at the obnoxious noise that blared through the speakers. Many cries ranging in languages, volumes, and choice words were directed towards the creator of the noise.

"What the shit?"

"Jesus Christ, what's your problem?"

"You're going to be the death of me someday, I swear it!"

"You're such a goddamn kid."

"Who let you do sound testing today?"

They were answered with a sneer and an equally rude curse from Gilbert.

"Cor," Arthur himself muttered, laughing slightly at his trembling nerves.

"Give that to me," Alfred growled, snatching the microphone away from him. "Scared me half to death. Turn the volume down." The albino muttered something about him not knowing how to have fun and conceded to his leader's demands.

The crowd's gentle murmur slowed to a stop, leaving the lot of them staring at a blank screen. Just as Arthur was about to question if the monitor was broken or another joke from Gilbert the screen lit up. Three sets of eyes gazed coldly back at them. They appeared to be standing in a half-lit office room with only a desk, filing cabinet, and lamp for furniture. The Briton shuddered as the three turned their attention to him at Alfred's side. He stared right back, standing tall and trying to hold off a look of confusion.

To the left stood a bear of a man with hair almost as white as Gilbert's. His eyes were an unusual shade of purple and held very little warmth in them. If anything, Arthur feared staring too intently into them. He could swear he felt a cold patch icing over his own heart as he looked into the eyes of the large man. From what he could tell, it was not just the heavy coat and scarf he wore that gave him so much bulk. Everything from his nose to his fingers compared to Arthur's twice in size.

In the middle was clearly their leader, if noticing how he stood in front of the other two and held the microphone was anything to call out on. His eyes were a piercing blue, maybe brighter than Alfred's, with blonde hair slicked back to his skull. His square jaw was locked, intensifying his gaze as he stared the group of rebels down. He looked at them in distaste, as though they were something he had thrown out that morning. It was hard not to notice how Gilbert scowled ruefully at him.

Finally, to the right stood their smallest member with dark hair and narrowed eyes. The Asian man looked absolutely tiny and breakable in the company of the other two men, yet his face held the most apathy in expression. Arthur would not doubt this was the face of a man who could kill without hesitation.

The entire company was silent as they stared each other down, waiting for a word or a motion to break the silence.

Alfred shattered the window of tension that had coagulated between the two parties. "It's been a while. What the hell do you want?"

The blonde on the monitor folded his thick arms across his broad torso, tilting his head back to raise his nose to the air. "What do you think?" his voice boomed through the speakers. Many jumped from the combination of his startling volume and intimidation. His accent was also hard to place for Arthur. He was beginning to think he was just bad at recognizing accents. Someone whispered for the volume to be turned down before he spoke again.

"I would guess a hamburger, just because that's what I would want A hamburger and a side of fries, oh yeah. Somehow I don't think that's it though. Perhaps you want Gilbert back?"

"Hey man, don't joke about something like that," the albino piped up, switching from making ugly, childish faces at the screen to suddenly uncharacteristically serious. Arthur was more surprised at the sudden increase in maturity than the message that had just passed between them. He knew they had all come from somewhere, though it had just occurred to him that somewhere included the other side.

"There's an awful lot of things you seem to want from us, but we're not going to give any of it to you without a fight."

"Do you even know what we want?"

"Not exactly, but I can guess." Alfred glanced sideways to Arthur. Of course he knew what they wanted, but it had been a while since they had contacted them to demand their victims back. What was so special about some bushy eyebrowed Brit?

Never one to beat around the bush, the other man stated his business. "I want that one. The other one, too." The man gave a vague nod towards the person he also wanted. "You took him from us, too."

"Contrary to popular belief, I believe we saved him," the heroic blonde retorted, puffing out his chest boldly. "We'll save anyone we can."

Something maniacal briefly flashed across the bear-man's face. His lips spread tightly across his teeth, keeping them hidden from view. The sight gave Arthur chills as he looked into the delighted purple eyes and at the tightlipped grin that promised pain.

"You've saved no one of value to us." The man's voice was heavily accented, to which Arthur distantly noticed was Russian. His voice had a lilt to the end, nearly disguising the real danger with the gentle voice. "So you interfered a few times with our Gatherers. We make more out of the ones you don't save. We'll make one of your new friend, for certain."

"No you won't, you commie bastard," the young leader snarled, losing his temper for a moment. He pulled himself back, collected his thoughts, and started again. "Not again. You won't take anymore of ours."

"As though you honestly believe you can continue playing hero."

"Oh, believe me when I say this is not pretend. I'm everyone's hero."

The two nearly fell into another staring match, but the blonde leader on the other side cleared his throat, looking irked at having been interrupted. "I'm giving you the opportunity to hand him and the last one you stole, over; no harm will come to any of yours in the process. Otherwise, we'll come and take him by force. We know where your rat hole is."

Arthur suddenly felt very self-conscious as the attention was redirected back to him. He didn't understand any of what was going on, and he certainly didn't see any reason why he could be of any use to either side. All he knew was that these were bad guys, and his saviours were being threatened. A quick glance around him revealed many to be staring at him, most likely holding similar thoughts in mind. Whether it was to his relief or not, very few looked tempted by the offer of the other man.

Who was the other? When he glanced over his shoulder he saw Berwald pulling Tino closer to him, pressing the tiny back against his larger body. The smaller man lifted his remaining arm to touch his friend's arm in a calming manner.

"I dare you to take them!"

Not sure where the sudden courage had come from, Arthur found himself asking, "Excuse me? Why me? Why us? I don't understand what the bloody hell is going on!" He winced as he realized his volume had increased as his panic grew.

Both leaders were surprised by his outburst. Both watched him for his next move.

"Potential, of course," the smallest of the opposing men answered quietly. His sharp eyes narrowed further as though he could see the 'potential' around them. "Arthur-san, Pangaea is for the brightest, bravest, and most talented of the world. We are simply bringing out the most of you, and you just happen to have plenty of potential."

"Potential to do what? I'm just a university student in England!" Arthur shot back. Sure, he was a bright lad, but certainly not the brightest of the school. He did have a bit of talent for sewing, but that was all, he could assure them.

"What, indeed," was the only answer he received from the young Asian male.

"That aside, will you hand them over or not? This is your last chance to say yes, Alfred," the other enunciated every word. "I won't even take revenge for the Gatherers you took down today, or for the Energy you stole like the parasites that you are."

The rebellion's brave leader just scoffed and flipped a hand through his bangs, giving a confident grin that assured the other he knew his answer.

"Not even if you offered us all the Energy in the world. Not even if you offered us the keys to the city. I won't say it again." A rush of gratitude overcame Arthur. It wasn't every day a man risked his entire organization to protect a few other outsiders.

"Alfred, are you sure?" he asked him quietly, looking at him worriedly. He didn't want this man to throw away everything for him.

Naturally the young blonde flashed him another million dollar smile and slapped him on the back, making him almost pitch forward. He was much stronger than he looked.

"Of course I'm sure. Never been surer. I'm the hero, so saving people is always the answer. After all, I can't be selective on who we save and keep."

On the screen the bear-man burst into a fit of giggles, starting out with high pitched chuckles and evolving to a deep, grating sound that sounded very similar to a rock sliding against metal. "Bad choice," he snickered.

"I agree with him," the Asian commented. "You're really making a mistake, Alfred-san."

"What can I say, Kiku? I've made a lot of bad decisions in the past. It happens. We're still standing, and they still believe in me. Must mean they weren't all that bad." Kiku then muttered something about Americans, but no one was able to catch all of it because of his low speaking volume.

"Better piss off, Ludwig," Gilbert spoke up after his long moment of silence. "We're keeping the Swedish kid, and the eyebrow monster." Someone muttered that Tino was Finnish, but no one corrected the albino. Not at a time like this.

The opposing leader, Lugwig, narrowed his blue eyes to glare at Gilbert. For a moment he had nothing to say, not to Alfred and not to Gilbert. He took a deep breath and looked Arthur straight in the eyes.

"Very well. Don't say we didn't warn you. We'll be seeing you in the near future. Perhaps your next Raid won't be so easy."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll meet again; I've heard it all before. We'll see you next time we kick your ass!"

Ludwig nodded in affirmation before he ordered someone on their side to cut communication. The group was left to stare at a dark screen as they contemplated future events. For a while no one dared move, waiting for someone else to break the silence for them.

Though silent, ideas were almost tangible enough to pluck from thin air at the rate they were being generated. Arthur could feel the brainpower sparking from one person to the next, even though verbal discussion had yet to occur – or maybe that was just the sparks he noticed coming to life on the tips of the leader's fingers. He was surprised to see Alfred's hands outstretch and become engulfed in a flurry of twisting lightning. The man brought his hands up and together, resulting in a flash of light that temporarily blinded the Briton. He gave a startled cry and backed up, still unused to the idea of a human being capable of producing an element within their own body. Nonetheless, the purpose was to catch everyone's attention and for crowd control. Somehow he felt that it was a bit overdone; he was sure there were other ways to capture everyone's attention. It was probably the heat of the moment. Alfred was an excitable person, after all.

"All right, it's time to man up!" he practically shouted, his voice deep and encouraging. "Guys, this is like every other time! Nothing new, nothing to worry about!" It was barely a moment's lapse between for his allies to begin a half-hearted cheer, then turning into a more raucous sound. Most of those in the room got into the cheering eventually, though a few looked back and forth nervously, unsure of the turn of events. Arthur didn't blame them. They probably wanted to turn him in even more than he did.

In the midst of all the battle-ready people Arthur saw the Swede and Finn. Of course he couldn't hear a single word they said, and he definitely was unable to lip read, but he knew enough from Tino's gestures and expressions that they were talking about something Berwald disagreed with. It wasn't hard to imagine what that could be. Arthur found himself creeping closer to the two.

"Ber, I can't even do that much anyway. What's one person to an entire group fighting for the right thing?"

"Because it's you," Arthur barely made out. If he hadn't seen the large spectacled man move his lips, he wouldn't have believed he had spoken. It was the first few words he had heard from the man; surprisingly the deep tenor voice wasn't raspy at all from disuse.

"But Ludwig promised to come after us! If we just go then everyone will be spared!" his voice rising in panic, his arms waving desperately in an attempt to convey his panic.

"But for how long?" the man asked, his facial expression changing ever so slightly to appear like he was giving the young Finn a stern look. That's what he thought he saw, anyway. One minute Berwald's face carried a trace of emotion, the next, nothing. Was the man incapable of expressing any emotion in any form? Clearly he cared for the well-being of his friend, yet he remained nearly as stoic as ever.

The smaller blonde's face crumpled and he pressed his hand to his face. "Don't do this, Ber. Not another time. I'm not worth it. I don't know what else to do."

"Worth it," the man assured him, patting him on the back awkwardly, even as Tino choked back sobs. It seemed the only way he understood a comforting gesture. It seemed it was perfect for Tino. Berwald suddenly looked up at Arthur, his face a blank mask. Despite this, the accusatory implicationfir eavesdropping was conveyed perfectly.

Arthur cleared his throat, catching Tino's attention and making him pull away from Berwald's semi-embrace in embarrassment.

"I hope you didn't see that," he muttered mostly to himself, his face still tear streaked and cheeks red. Arthur had a hard time hearing over the conversation going on around them. "I'm sorry, of course you did! I'm like a delicate flower, you see." He laughed at himself for the chosen comparison.

"No, it's okay. I'd be crying too." If he had a shoulder to cry on, maybe. But gentlemen didn't cry. They dried the tears of ladies who were beside themselves; never were they the ones who had their tears dried for them. Men sucked it up, that was the unspoken society rule. "Didn't hear much," he lied.

"Oh. Oh, that's good. It was just me being silly, over-worrying again." He chuckled nervously, unable to meet Arthur's eye.

"Will you tell me something?"

"If I'm able."

The Englishman looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping such as he had been. No one but Berwald was really attempting to listen to the two who had been called out by the Order.

"Why us? Why me? Why you? What can we do? I mean, clearly you can do more than I can, I think. You were part of this longer than me; you must be able to do more, right?"

The Finn cocked his head to the side, his bangs falling in his face. Berwald carefully reached over and brushed them out of his eyes. "I'm not really much more useful than you." He waved his only hand in front of his face pathetically. "But I know what you mean. Yeah, I can do stuff too. Most of us can."

"Most? Not everyone?" Who wouldn't want unimaginable power when they were at war? Arthur almost wanted it too, but he couldn't bring himself to ask how it was obtained, nor did he feel like giving up his last bit of sanity.

"No. People can choose not to, if they want. It's a lot of detail to explain. I'm sorry. I don't even know where to begin."

"But wait, that doesn't answer the first question," he protested. "Why us?" He was getting off topic too much because there were so many unanswered questions he wanted to hear.

"We were meant to become one of a few different jobs. I don't know how they do it, but we'd be made into one of the Gatherers, or one of the things that make the Energy in their own body. Or we might just end up as one of Ludwig's subordinates. He's always looking for people with potential. The 'perfect race' he called it, once. We're from the surface, we're untainted from Gene Swapping, I don't know. For whatever reason we were picked out from the rest of society."

"What can I do to help?"

At this, Tino shrugged, his lip forming into a pout. "My only idea was to turn myself in, honestly. Ber won't let me, naturally, and I'm sure no one else will. Just an idea. Ask Alfred. He'll suggest something for you, although he's more likely to just tell you to sit back and watch. He doesn't like dragging Surface people into this."

He almost asked how Tino had gotten dragged into this as he too was once a Surface-dweller but thought better than to drag on the conversation. "Right, then," was his farewell along with a nod and word of thanks. He left the two men to find the leader still in the middle now standing on an upturned wooden crate. It didn't look very sturdy, yet Alfred had yet to fall through. He was demanding answers from his group, riling them up further.

"Are we going to let them walk in here like they own us?" he shouted to the crowd, lifting his fist at the end of each statement.

"No!"

"Are we going to lie down and let them take our friends?"

"Hell no!"

"Stand and fight! It's just like any other fight! Lives are on the line! Defend your freedom! Power to the people!"

The wave of sound carried from front to back, filling the room with sound. No way was Arthur going to get Alfred's attention while all this noise was going on. He'd have to wait until the man got off his soapbox, literally. So he stood back, watching the beloved leader ask them to be more careful, but to fight with everything they had. He seemed to genuinely care for his members, and Arthur could respect that. Sure, he seemed like a shit-stirrer, he also had an obnoxious laugh that didn't match with his status as leader, but he had a good heart. Arthur didn't know the details yet, but he could feel that they were fighting for the right thing. He could feel that, though young, the man was a prodigious leader for the people. Arthur would gladly serve this man.

The noise didn't end now that it had started, but it died down to a dull roar. Many conversed, plotted, and strategized. Arthur didn't catch many words as they all tended to blend together, and he couldn't say he understood all of the lingo anyway. What was he supposed to get out of phrases like 'reverse vacuuming,' and 'heat rushing'?

Alfred finally seemed to notice him standing alone, scanning the room and listening in on conversations. He approached him with a large grin on his face, taking the back of his hand and wiping the sweat from his forehead. His cheeks had a healthy red glow to it from exertion of shouting, but he appeared to be very pleased with himself.

"Hey! Did you like that speech?"

"Err, yeah." He didn't really catch all of it, but he liked what part he did hear. Very inspiring, even to him. "You're a great leader, I can tell."

"Thanks! I'm glad you think so. I'm glad they think so. Sometimes a few don't really agree with me, and I take their criticism because I'm still learning, myself."

"That's great. We could use someone like you up top, you know?"

Alfred's smile faltered for the briefest moment. "Oh, yeah? Up top? I doubt anyone up there wants some nobody telling them how to run things. Even if this nobody can shoot lightning from his hands, right?"

"I suppose, but down here you don't seem like a nobody. Good on you."

"Not anymore, anyway. If you were here years ago you might have thought differently. Not that I'd want you here for that long."

"I know it. I'd go crazy down here, I think. Stuck in here, waiting for attacks." He trailed off, thinking about what else these people were stuck with. "Oh, sorry. I mean no offense."

"None taken. We're used to it, and it's how we live. It's not really okay to live this way, so that's why we're trying to take back what belongs to the people."

"And what exactly belongs to them?"

"I'm glad you asked. You see, we're the people who have worked at least a day in our life. Those snobs in the Order? I can't say one of them has lifted a finger. Or they're the cowards who fled for the protection of other cowards.

"We're the people who ran this city, but they called the shots. Back when the thoughts of war were just stirring, they started taking more and more of our privileges. The occasional rebellion and protest broke out and the big-wigs started taking exaggerated methods of solution."

"And that led to this, eventually?"

"Yeah. In a nutshell. Might have time to give you more info later. Or just ask a few others. Not all have been here as long as others, or were old enough to understand much of what was going on at the time. Also, be careful who you ask. Some people have had really bad experiences with the war. You ought to ask for permission to ask them about the going ons."

It almost sounded redundant, but Arthur recalled the reaction from Lovino. Even if Lovino wasn't the best example, it was clear the war had taken its toll on him.

"Ah, hey, Alfred? Can I ask. . . Why are we so important to protect? Why risk the entire setup you've got going for two people? Don't give me your hero speech, either."

"Mostly because it's not right to give up some people for the sake of others. Yeah, it might save more lives, but human life isn't something you can put a monetary value to. Besides, if we have you on our side, it means one less person for the Order to have on theirs."

"If that's what you want." He paused, putting together the sentence in his mind before he spoke aloud. He spoke slowly and carefully. "I don't want to be useless. I don't want to watch you put your lives on the line for me. What do you wa– no. What can I do to help?"

The grin fell completely from Alfred's face as if glue had finally given out to a heavy poster. A look of confusion befell his handsome face, and blue eyes behind cracked frames searched his own questioningly.

"Do you really want to help?"

"Yes, anything!"

"Even though you should rest assured that we're strong enough to hold our own?"

"One day it won't be enough to just 'hold your own.' I know it. And I can't feel good knowing I'm doing nothing but dicking around."

"Right. Of course. Uh, you can't do what?"

The young leader sighed and looked around at the room full of people. He picked up a smile again and mouthed 'one moment.' He stood back on his upturned crate and shouted for the meeting to be dismissed and everyone to take a breather. He ordered a few people to take watch outside, a few to patrol the border, and another to watch their monitors and let him know of any changes. Then he returned to Arthur.

Together they watched the room clear out, slowly but surely the noise coming to a complete halt. It finally left the two of them in the large, empty room with nothing but the monitor and a few chairs.

"How about I tell you later? It's a really big risk to help us. Not just the risk of dying or getting electrocuted. Let me explain later. For now, how about I show you to a room? The top floors are knocked out, so sadly, I can't give you a nice view. Not that there's anything nice to look at anymore. A few rooms even have running water!"

"Will you tell me more soon? I want to help as soon as possible." He couldn't help but feel like the other was slightly avoiding answering questions, but said nothing of it.

"If that's what you want. But come with me now. Let me give you another tour," he said smoothly.

And so, Arthur followed him out and up the stairs. All of it would come in time, he decided.


	5. Chapter 4

Far beyond the borders of the Resistance and the unoccupied territory that was No Man's Land stands the Headquarters to the Order. Mind, their territory is in better condition than that of the Resistance, though not ultimately so. They are no exception to the consequences of time and battle ravaging the landscape, but it should be noted that combat sees their territory less frequently.

Compared to the dilapidated hotel that the rebels kip out in, they have an assortment of buildings at their disposal. They have the technology and resources to maintain a decent upkeep of their laboratory, a slowly collapsing office building, and a few makeshift barracks, which were mostly old shops with added beds. A few years prior they had several smaller buildings used for miscellaneous purposes, but given their gradually depleting resources, they'd had to cut back. As it is, the buildings that are currently being maintained are barely passing the appearance and functionality of practical.

All of the buildings in the Order's possession are almost never unoccupied. There are many more soldiers under their command. All are given a job of gathering, spying on the pesky rebels, or keeping the place stable. The higher ups occupy either the laboratory or the office building for most of the day.

Within the towering office building that formerly served as the Headquarters to the founders of Pangaea now belongs to one Ludwig Beilschmidt, remaining heir to the company, serving a similar purpose to that of the hotel and the rats that lay claim to it. The video conference room now stood empty, as the trio had wandered off to their own devices. Ludwig had retreated to the topmost floor –the literal top floor had long collapsed- while Kiku had disappeared to another floor. No one was ever really quite sure where he took refuge at when he wasn't in the laboratory, or what he did while he was away. Ivan, on the other hand, could be heard a few halls down from his office. Mind, the door leading in was cracked ajar only a bit, and he was normally possessed a very gentle tone, but his voice carried regardless. Perhaps it was the depth of which it emerged from his throat that caused his soft, yet threatening words to carry as far as they were able.

"Let me get this straight. You three spotted the target, yet you all ran away from a harmless topsider?" Ivan sat behind a chipped, stained desk as he examined the boys before him.

"Y-yes, sir. We're very sorry, sir. We thought he was one of the rebels," the tallest pleaded, unable to lift his blue-green eyes to meet the ferocious purple eyes glaring holes into the top of his head. The young man trembled practically in unison with the two younger members at his side.

"Yes, Mr Braginski, we thought he was perhaps a spy," the glasses clad male stuttered. He too could not meet the eyes of their boss. "We didn't study his appearance enough. It is most certainly our fault!"

"You should have seen his eyebrows. They were terrifying! I thought maybe they would eat his face, or ours, had we stayed any longer! And then they would have come for you, I'm sure!" the youngest, smallest added, much to the terror of the other two. They nudged him together, making him whimper and glare at the two of them.

"Shut up! Shut up!" the tall brunette pleaded. "Raivis was just scared! He doesn't know what he's talking about!"

"How silly of you. You're such a tiny thing, yet you possess so much humor. I'm laughing on the inside, can you tell?" the fearsome Russian asked them humorlessly.

"To be honest, sir, I can never tell when you're laughing on the outside. You're so scary no matter what! Truly a person to beware!"  
"Why can't you ever shut up?" the middle of the three pleaded louder, taking Raivis by the shoulders and shaking him angrily.

"No matter. You three are terrible spies and should be smart enough to make a grab for anyone you didn't know. Even if was not our target, you could have grabbed a possible rat that we could have kept in our possession."

"A-actually, sir, we also came straight away to inform you that he had gotten away from the Gatherer."

"Ah, my dear Toris, I do not doubt you thought that would be best option. Too bad for you that it was not. Also too bad for you that you were unable to inform me before I was informed otherwise."

"We'll do better next time. We're sorry!" the three cried, heads bowed to avoid any possible contact.

Ivan was just thinking of how best he could exact a punishment to the three of them when a soft knock came to the door and a young Asian man stepped through. Ivan immediately lit up at the sight of his Chinese subordinate.

"Greetings, Yao-Yao," he called, standing up from behind his desk and striding past the trembling trio. He made to grab at the young man, but Yao stepped away before the large hands could paw at him.

"It's Yao," he shot back, looking between the Russian and the pathetic lot he called his errand boys. "I've got the report on the Gatherers we lost today. I'll just leave it here."

"Nyet, nyet. Read to me." He smiled in a very childlike fashion to imply his curiosity. He waved a gloved hand to gesture for Yao to begin. The ponytailed Asian looked unsure but cleared his throat all the same. He did his best to keep his accent out of his reading, as Ivan found it an excuse to make him say it all over again. Behind him, the trio snuck out of the room.

"Okay. We lost four of our Gatherers. The other one came back, but not good. It will need repairs. We make more soon." He stopped skimming the reports and tried to repeat the sentence.

"Oh, how cute. I love to hear you say things wrong," Ivan teased, even though his English wasn't that must better. It really didn't help that all of their English was learned from those who also barely spoke English. It was really only those who had come at a young age that were able to speak without accent.

Yao did nothing but stare at him, his brow furrowing in annoyance. Every time with this guy. Every time. If Ivan wasn't so dangerous, Yao would definitely take him on.

"Well, go on? I'm wanting to hear more."

"Right. We also not have enough parts right now to make many more." He faltered when he realized that sentence didn't sound quite right either. Being in the presence of Ivan, as well as trying to read crappy English scrawl and speaking as properly as he could made his accent and English break down. When he was not interrupted he continued. "We can get more parts if we scrap a few other projects down in labor- laboratory. What are you doing?" He looked up from the papers to see Ivan leaning in close, his large nose threatening to tap the papers Yao held close to his face.

"Just checking you are reading the right words. You are sounding so silly I just want to check you are reading right." As the case with Yao's English breaking down, Ivan's tended to come apart when he was either mad, or teasing someone with poor English.

Yao flushed and turned his head, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a sharp retort in Chinese. Ivan found it even funnier when he fell back into Chinese. Then he knew he had gotten to Yao. Instead he held his breath and worked out the sentence in his head. Once he knew it sounded right, he spoke.

"You can read this yourself if you only want to make fun of me." He tossed the papers onto the desk's surface where they scattered to cover most of the mysterious stain on the desk. "Good day. I have to talk to someone else." He turned to leave, only to be jerked back violently by his ponytail. He cried out as Ivan spun him around and pinned him against the wall, eyes flashing with a malicious joy.

"No, you stay here and tell me the rest. Don't make me freeze you to my wall. I would love a Chinese ice statue in my office, you know." He leaned his weight forward to keep the struggling man held down before him.

"Let go! I don't like when you do this!" It was not that often Ivan shoved him around, but when he did, he played rough.

The Russian man laughed gleefully, looking thoughtfully at his prey.

"Then I guess sooner you start, sooner you finish."

"But I need the report. Let me go!"

"No. Should have memorize it.

"I can't memorize it! I am barely able to read it!"

"I'm waiting."

"I – I. . . Ugh! H-have th-three? Three more in reserve, but Ludwig said not to use for now. Also, Ludwig says maybe we use the Lithuanian for bargain." A mischievous look crossed his face. "Or maybe we use him as new Gatherer. That sound like even better idea."

Ivan froze at the last sentence, and although he made no conscious effort to continue pinning Yao to the wall, the Chinese man found himself unable to struggle much. It was best not to anger the Russian any more than he suspected him to be at the news of losing his prize.

"I will talk to Ludwig. He can have someone else to bargain with. Not my Toris. And he won't use him for stupid experiment." With that, Ivan began to mutter something in Russian, shoving Yao away from him violently. Yao grimaced as he knocked into the door, his back stinging from where the knob dug into his spine. He scoffed but made no further attempt at conversation, taking his leave quickly. He refrained from slamming the door, though he would have liked to. The last thing he wanted was the angry Russian to storm out of the office and freeze him to the wall as he so often threatened.

Yao took a deep breath as he was faced with the empty corridor, listening to the sounds of Ivan tossing things carelessly around the room in one of his childish fits. He could hear the murmured Russian, even with the door closed shut. He cursed under his breath in Chinese, tilting his head back as he leaned against the wall beside the door frame. His head made a hollow sound as he made contact with the wall, making him freeze in hopes that Ivan had not heard the sound from within his office.

When no slamming open of the door occurred, or no pounding on the walls and threats made through the door were to be heard, Yao released his held breath. Being around the Russian made him nervous beyond belief; the man was easily comparable to the game of Russian roulette.

Just as his pulse was settling down, Yao heard quiet footsteps approaching. He looked over to where the corridor contained a left turn hallway and waiting for the figure to approach. Lo and behold, Kiku turned the corner, apathetic expression analyzing the surroundings before he caught Yao staring at him. The Japanese man's expression didn't change much, but upon making eye contact with his co-worker, his eyes took a more awake look.

"Sorry, I was thinking. Are you okay?" he asked quietly, coming to a halt beside Yao's leaning frame.

"Yes. Ivan-"

"Ivan-san is giving you a hard time?" he interrupted, eyes flicking towards the closed door. The young man cocked his head to the side as he listened to the curses coming from the room.

"Nothing I can't handle," Yao said dismissively. "He is more on-edge today, I think."

"Yes. We just finished a video call with the Resistance group. The end results were not good. Also, seeing Alfred-san is not good for him, either."

"What do we do if the Resistance does not cooperate with us? If they keep not giving up their targets?"

The Japanese man paused and pursed his lips slightly. His narrow eyes narrowed further in thought.

"We are planning an attack now. Ludwig-san does not expect them to cooperate. He says they will certainly not want to. The leader is surely stubborn."

"I know. Do you know when the attack will be? Where?"

Kiku shook his head. "Don't know yet. Still planning phase. I need you to go out and gather materials from the area. Maybe you can spy too, if you have time. Also if you are careful. Don't get caught by them, okay? They will have maybe too much leverage against us if you are captured."

"Yes, I understand." Yao let the information sink in. He really didn't care for when they were all sent out to fight. He especially didn't care for the fighting. He was here for a few reasons, but fighting the 'rats' was not one of them. "You want me to leave now?"

"Please. If you can leave now. I have to talk to Vash about the weapons. Maybe need upgrade on them if we want to take advantage of the Resistance."

With that, Kiku continued on his way, striding past Yao and down the hall. Yao watched him take the second right turn as he progressed, disappearing from sight. Yao took his own leave once the sounds of Kiku's steps had faded in the distance. He took the opposite direction and made to leave the building. He had to make a quick trip to his living space to gather a few possessions before setting off to collect the materials Kiku had requested.

His makeshift home was separate from the barracks the mindless soldiers shared. He was more to the edge of their territory, though not so far as to have Ludwig chewing him out and making him move closer. Yao insisted he liked his privacy, though really, he liked to be away from the unpredictable Ivan and the coldhearted Kiku. Being around them made him nervous. He didn't mind Ludwig when he wasn't shouting and barking orders. He didn't mind many of the other important members, but in turn, they didn't mind him.

He thought about the other members as he crossed the distance from the office building and passed the randomized buildings used as homes. He could remember when this area was much like a city, with workers exiting the office building, or laboratory, or the nearby shops to grab some lunch, or to use their breaks and take a stroll. Now he was climbing out of literal man-made holes in the old street, and tripping over rubble from the damaged buildings.

His home was his old Chinese shop he had run. The lucky items inside had been stolen from back when chaos was running high. His shop was in decent condition on the outside, and he had done what he could to fix up the inside after people had run through and knocked things over in their hurry to steal anything valuable. When he walked in, the bells at the top of the door chimed happily, making his heart jump once again as he remembered serving customers who had made the door chime years ago.

Within the old shop, Chinese posters curled sadly in on themselves at the corners that no longer stuck to the wall. He had cleaned up the shattered glass and china plates long ago, and so his shelves were bare against the cracked wall. The counter had been ransacked, and the cash register had been smashed to pieces. All he really had left was his sleeping mattress on the floor behind the counter, his old Shinatty doll from home, and a pile of clothes that he'd have to mend due to rips and stains from crawling around the destroyed city.

As Yao looked around his shop once more, settling within the flood of memories that overtook his senses each time he was feeling particularly nostalgic, he only wished for a resolution to the war.

He cleared his head after another moment of recollection and walked behind the counter. He crouched down beside his mattress and tattered blanket to grab his makeshift pillow, which in fact, was his messenger bag balled up and contents removed. He turned his head to look at his ragged cat doll fondly. If only he could lie around, eating dumplings made from his mother's recipe, and cuddle with the doll. But those were days long gone, and he was not a child. He had a job to do now, and survival was the key idea.

Maybe if he had never come here all those years ago, he could still be home with his siblings, his parents, and the family-owned shop back in China. But he, like many others all around the world, had been lured in by the invitation's promise of a society made for those above the petty squabbles of the weak. He had been promised a great opportunity to make a great fortune. Look where he was now. He laughed to himself –more like laughed at himself- because what good did regretting the past do now? Nothing, that's what. Yao pushed away a stray strand of hair from his forehead and stood up, unfolding the messenger bag and shaking it out. Even after he slung it over his shoulder it still held its crumpled form. It would unfold as it gained possessions to carry.

The Chinese man shook himself mentally and literally, forcibly removing himself from his reverie. Only after he removed his hair from its usual ponytail and replaced it with a fresh hold did he set out, exiting the territory to explore the No Man's Land, and the Resistance's territory. If this is what it took to end the war, then he didn't care what he was used for.


End file.
